


Evangeline

by K_Royale



Category: The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:53:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 36
Words: 86,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23719273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/K_Royale/pseuds/K_Royale
Summary: Evangeline doesn't know where she came from, who her parents were, or who left her behind. All she can ever be certain of is her name and that she is Nephilim. She's never given much thought to her past, considering she has all the family she's ever wanted in the New York Institute. However, upon Valentine Morgenstern's return, Evangeline's true origins begin to unfold and they will soon uncover what Magnus Bane calls the conspiracy of the century.
Relationships: Clary Fray/Jace Wayland, Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Raphael Santiago/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 29
Kudos: 39





	1. Evangeline

It was strange knowing  _ what _ you are, but not  _ who  _ you are.

She doesn’t know where she came from, who her parents were, or who left her behind. All she can ever be certain of was her name:  _ Evangeline.  _

All everyone’s ever told her was how strange her story was. On a warm August morning just before daybreak, a bundle of wiggling blankets was left in front of the angel statue in the New York City Marble Cemetery in Manhattan—one of the infinite entrances to the Silent City. Within the blankets was a wailing baby girl with a full head of dark hair and a note where her name was written right above a nearly perfect drawing of the Enkeli, the Angelic Power rune, all in black Sharpie. She still has the note; it’s tucked away into the spine of her copy of  _ The Return of the King _ by J.R.R. Tolkien.

The Silent Brothers brought her into the Silent City and calmed her incessant crying with baby formula—where they got it, she had no idea. They determined she was Nephilim and whoever left her behind knew of the Shadow World, but left no trace of themselves behind. Orphaned Nephilim children were nothing out of the ordinary, though. The Silent Brothers arranged the protection ceremony all newborn Nephilim undergo and once completed, they dropped her off at the nearest sanctuary: the New York Institute. After all, they couldn’t care for her. Can you imagine a Silent Brother changing diapers and wiping drool of their parchment robes?

Eva felt as though she’s known the inhabitants of the New York Institute all her life, but in reality, the Lightwoods, their children, and Hodge Starkweather arrived when she was nearly three-years old. Eva doesn’t even recall who took care of her for those first few years; she only remembered a happy childhood of going to a nearby park to ride the swings with Alec and Izzy, playing with Max as a toddler, Maryse trying to find a way to tame Eva’s unruly curly hair, sneaking out of the Institute with Izzy to go catch pixies in Central Park or spot mermaids in the Hudson River and then having Alec tell on them and get grounded as a result. 

Lessons and training were mandatory and daily, but Eva and the Lightwoods never really minded. Hodge was never strict and let them get a nap or two in when he went off on history tangents, but he was a good teacher and they were good students, drinking up every fact and rune they could. Eva was aware he had a soft spot for her, noticing he never doted on the Lightwoods as much as he did with her. She knew he loved them all and he treated them all fairly in training and during lessons, but he acted like a mentor with the Lightwoods, but almost like a father with her.

“Don’t play with your food, Eva.” Hodge would scold lightly when she began pushing vegetables around her plate, or when she was sick, he’d become endearingly insufferable. “I’ll make you some tisane for your allergies and—by the Angel, you have a fever! I’ll make something for that too, and here’s a box of tissues in case you need to sneeze, and don’t forget to wash your hands afterwards.” 

She received her first rune when she turned ten on the tenth of August—the day she was found. The inky black eye was carved onto the back of her right hand by a Silent Brother, and she remembered teasing Alec about getting it first. He was scheduled to be runed next month, but he never really did understand irony.

“Of course you’ll get runed first,” he’d said in his matter-of-fact way. “You’re older than me.”

Jace Wayland arrived at the Institute not too long after that with his quips and sass, and Alec became much more aware of jokes and witty banter, but he was still dry as an overcooked turkey. Izzy; however, was a different matter.

All the mischief Eva ever got in trouble for, Izzy was at her side for it all. When it was time to spar in the training room, Izzy would insist it be with Eva, and vice versa. They loved going to the mall together to browse the endless racks of clothing and try them on. They had very different fashion styles: Izzy lived for the latest trends she saw in magazines and loved anything that sparkled and showed way too much skin while Eva loved to feel cozy in sweaters and scarves and had  _ way _ too many Chelsea boots in her closet. They played with makeup together, learning the art of the perfect winged eyeliner by using each other as canvases, and using enough smudged eyeshadow to look like raccoons during that short-lived scene phase they went through. Eva would never forget Hodge’s horrified reaction while Maryse, already accustomed to her daughter’s strange tastes, brushed it aside. 

Following that phase she and Izzy never want to look back on again, Eva’s hair was heat-damaged and dull with all the colored box dyes. It was Izzy who chopped away at it, leaving her with what looked like a halo of curls around her head.

“I like your hair; you can do so much with it,” Izzy said, finding it amusing how she’d pull one of Eva’s ringlet curls straight and when she released it, it would coil back into a perfect spiral. “Mine is so straight and I can never get it to curl! And I can never wash it once a week like you do! I’d be able to fry an egg with my greasy scalp.” 

By the age of sixteen, Eva’s hair had grown just above her shoulders and looked shiny and healthy. She always spent hours with Hodge in the greenhouse, picking out the best ingredients for hair products that hydrated her curls, strengthened them, added shine, and prevented frizz during the summer months. 

“Extracts from jojoba and aloe should help, and coconut, avocado, and olive oils are also beneficial for hydration,” Hodge would tell her, expertly picking apart said ingredients. “I can make it smell like gardenias if you’d like; I know they’re your favorite.”

When Eva had just turned seventeen, she made one of the most important decisions of her life. She managed to muster up her courage as she watched Izzy fuss over which of the two dresses she was going to buy—though Eva knew that by the end of it, she would just get both.

“Do you want to be  _ parabatai _ ?” 

The dresses slipped out of Izzy’s hands, their wooden hangers clanking loudly on the floor. “What?”

“ _ Parabatai _ . Would you like to be  _ parabatai _ ?”

Izzy looked absolutely stunned, but it had quickly dissolved from her features as she carelessly tossed her ink black hair over her shoulder, “Yeah, sure.”

Her aloofness was to be expected; Izzy hated showing emotions that made her seem vulnerable, even around Eva who knew her better than her own mother did. Under it all, Eva knew she was flattered and ecstatic and feeling the warmth you feel when someone does something selfless for you. Eva has always been hyper-aware of people’s emotions, even when they desperately tried to hide them. She playfully called it a sixth sense.

Just two weeks later, Izzy and Eva stepped into the flaming ring together and said their vows, holding each other’s hands as if they were going to arm wrestle. Eva could barely keep the smile off her face, and Izzy was determined not to let tears smudge her mascara.

_ Entreat me not to leave thee, _

_ Or return from following after thee— _

_ For whither thou goest, I will go, _

_ And where thou lodgest, I will lodge. _

_ Thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God. _

_ Where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried. _

_ The Angel do so to me, and more also, _

_ If aught but death part thee and me. _

“Where do you want it?” Izzy asked, raising her stele. “Your arm?”

“Make it a tramp stamp,” Eva joked, pulled up her thin sweater and whirled around to expose her lower back to her  _ parabatai _ . Izzy burst into laughter, and while most of the Council members witnessing the ceremony were confused, the few that were aware of mundane trends looked absolutely horrified. Satisfied with everyone’s reactions, Eva let her sweater fall back down and instead, turned and pulled down her neckline. Izzy carved the _ parabatai _ rune below her right collarbone. In turn, Eva carved Izzy’s rune on her right bicep.

“I don’t feel any different,” Izzy said when they’d returned to the Institute. Her voice echoed through the elevated roof of the library. 

Eva laughed. “You think Hodge lied to us and being  _ parabatai _ is just a novelty thing?”

“It’s rude to talk about people when they’re not in the room.”

The girls jumped and looked up to see Hodge leaning against the railing of the grand library’s second floor, Hugo perched on his injured shoulder and sleeping soundly. He was looking down at them under his glasses, but his eyes were twinkling with amusement. He very rarely scolded them and meant it. 

“Well, you’re in the room, so it doesn’t count!” Eva teased. “You’re feeling better?”

“Quite,” he said and averted his eyes. Eva wanted him present at her  _ parabatai _ ceremony to be her witness, but he said he’d come down with a fever and quarantined himself in his room. Eva couldn’t pinpoint it exactly, but under the layers of emotional barriers that surrounded Hodge Starkweather, she felt a very strange pang she could only describe as  _ guilt _ . 


	2. The Nightfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eva crosses paths with a certain grumpy vampire.

“You’re early for Christmas _and_ my birthday,” Eva laughed, covering her eyes with her hands. Spring was bursting in Manhattan with warming temperatures, birds chirping happily, and trees and flowers bloomed. She could feel the warmth of the morning sun through the windows letting the breeze into the enormous library. 

“Open your eyes.”

Hodge stood before her in his usual sharp tweed suit, a smile on his scarred but handsome face. Eva always found it endearing how smiling always caused his glasses to slide down the bridge of his nose and made little wrinkles appear at the corners of his dark eyes. Paired with the grey streaks in his jet black hair, it made him look so much older despite being the same age as Maryse and Robert.

In his hands was a square metal box carved with various runes of angelic prowess. Eva looked up, silently asking silently for permission. When he responded with a nod, she took the box in her hands, unclasped the latch on the front, and opened it. Inside were a beautifully carved pair of chakrams, the razor sharp blade all around the perfect circle glistening in the sunlight beaming through the open windows. Across the middle of each pair was a firm grip that looked like sturdy black leather where runes were etched. The blades were also decorated with runes for sharpness and swiftness and even a lightweight rune— because only the Angel knows these were very heavy— but among them all was a single cursive letter _E_.

“I could’ve waited for you to turn eighteen and picked your name, but I couldn’t resist,” Hodge laughed nervously. “You’ve improved so much with the chakrams, and I don’t mind lending you mine when you go off on patrols, but I thought it was time you have your own.”

Eva felt her throat burn up with tears. During their training, everyone was naturally inclined to certain weapons. Jace was an expert with blades, whether they were swords or knives. Alec was gifted in marksmanship and he never left the Institute without his trusty bow and quiver of arrows. Izzy was given an electrum whip for her twelfth birthday and made cracking it in furious lashes look effortless. Eva used every weapon efficiently, as all Shadowhunters should, but one day after a training session when she was twelve, Hodge approached her with a suggestion.

“These are chakrams, my weapon of choice.” He’d showed her the circular, razor-sharp discs he’s had in his possession for more than twenty years. “They’re very versatile—they can be used in hand-to-hand combat, but can also be thrown for long-range attacks. If you’re interested, I could teach you how to use them.”

The rest is history. Jace has his blades, Alec has his bow, Izzy has her whip, and Eva has her chakrams.

Eva placed the box on the nearby desk hastily and buried her face into Hodge’s chest, jumping up to wrap her arms around his neck and bring him down to her level. His arms quickly embraced her, pulling her into a warm hug. He chuckled through a wince, “Eva, my shoulder...”

“Sorry,” her voice wavered, pulling away from him so he could straighten up and roll his injured shoulder. “Thank you, Hodge. They’re beautiful.”

“You deserve them,” he smiled. “You’ve grown right before my eyes—you look...” he trailed off.

“I look like what?” she laughed. “Like someone you know?”

“Yes, you do,” he smiled, but Eva could feel the emotion lurking behind that cheerful grin. _Grief._

Eva didn’t prod him further; she was too interested in her new chakrams. She held both discs in her hands, feeling their weight and slicing the air, finding the whistle of it very satisfying. 

“Have you decided on a name yet?” Hodge asked, watching her every movement with calm amusement. 

“It’s a little early for that,” she looked at the reflection on the chakram in her right hand, her golden eyes staring back like beacons in a pitch black night. “Besides, I won’t tell anyone until _after_ the Clave approves it, just to annoy all of you.”

“Not even Isabelle?”

“Not even her,” Eva said. “Though she will try to extract it from me.”

Being an orphan left to be found by the Silent Brothers like the Pharaoh’s daughter found Moses, Eva has no known family and hence, no last name. When she began training and earned her first rune at the age of ten, the Clave decided that upon her eighteenth birthday when she legally became an adult under the Law, she could choose her own name and submit it for approval. So until next year, she was just Evangeline.

Later that night, Izzy had convinced her to go to a nightclub on 10th and 42nd Street called _The Nightfall_. It was rumored to be the hottest vampire hangout in New York City.

“ _Whither thou goest, I will go_ , so you have to come with me,” Izzy brushed her hair back into a high ponytail. Her pale and beautiful face was already done up with perfectly blended eyeshadow, sharp cat-eye liner, butterfly lashes, and bold red lipstick. 

“If I knew I’d be getting dragged to bars and clubs every other weekend, I would’ve reconsidered,” Eva joked lightly. While Eva wasn’t against a good party now and again, blaring music, sweaty bodies, drunken idiots, and sleazy men hitting on you lost its charm very quickly. She preferred much calmer pursuits such as the movies or the Central Park Zoo or even going to a museum. Nevertheless, she always accompanied Izzy, even before they became _parabatai_ , just to watch over her. She was known to drink one too many drinks sometimes, and now with this hypersensitive bond linking them, Eva was certain she’d slice someone’s head off with her new chakrams if they even came close to Izzy.

“I need a hot vampire boyfriend for a change,” Izzy started, powdering her face quickly. “They’re really good at French kissing.”

“When they’re not biting, I’m sure,” Eva laughed. “So you’ve dated two warlocks, a mundane, and three werewolves— tonight we’ll get you a vampire, and next week a Faerie knight?”

“Ha, ha,” she spritzed perfume generously on her neck. “Aren’t you going to get dressed?”

“I _am_ dressed!”

“Oh Angel in Heaven, don’t you ever learn?” Izzy sighed in exasperation. Her eyes scanned over Eva’s form critically, taking in her ripped, light blue skinny jeans, block-heeled Chelsea boots, and a form-fitting scoop neck black shirt with quarter sleeves. She wore smokey eyeshadow, mascara, and powdered some blush on her cheeks. She managed to glamour her chakrams to wear like hoop earrings, and her hair was as always: wild and curly and big. She didn’t bother to glamour the thin silver lines that swirled on her skin from years of rune application. There was a time when she was self-conscious, especially since her rich, medium-toned skin made the lines more pronounced and noticeable. Those feelings have long been gone.

“You’re never going to find a boyfriend,” Izzy rolled her eyes. “When are you going to have your first kiss, when you’re thirty?”

“And have sex when I’m forty,” she stacked on. “Can you stop fussing with your dress? You look fine!”

To Eva’s shock, you could hear your own thoughts inside _The Nightfall_. The music wasn’t bursting your eardrums, but wasn’t straining to be heard either. She could only assume it was meant for the sensitive hearing of vampires. Like any other nightclub she’s been to, there was a dancefloor filled with flailing bodies, tables scattered around with people drinking and laughing while others were empty with glasses of blood cocktails holding their place. 

“See if there’s any normal drinks at the bar, would you?” Izzy told her as she made a dash for the dancefloor. She obviously already spotted someone she thought was cute. “Get me a daiquiri!”

Eva rolled her eyes in amusement and walked to the bar. She approached the closest empty seat and hoped it wasn’t taken. 

“Is this seat empty?” Eva asked the guy sitting in the stool next to it. He turned his head to look up at her, his brilliant brown eyes half-lidded with boredom. His black hair was nicely styled with a bit of gel and he wore what looked like very expensive black jeans with a simple button-up white shirt tucked into it, a black blazer, and leather boots. His long fingers ran along the rim of his snifter of spiked crimson blood.

He didn’t reply and merely went back to eyeing his glass of blood. Taking it in stride, Eva slipped into the seat and raised her hand for the bartender. The man saw her and nodded in acknowledgement before continuing to take another customer’s order.

“You see what he did?” Eva began, leaning over to the guy close enough to burst his haughty personal space bubble. “The bartender nodded so I’d know he saw me. You should do that.”

To her surprise, the vampire let out an amused scoff and brought his snifter to his lips to drink a sip. He licked his top lip absentmindedly before he spoke, “Nephilim don’t usually come to places like this.”

“There’s an exception to every rule,” Eva said. “Now, why do you look like the Mets lost a game?”

“I hate sports, and that’s none of your business.”

The bartender approached her and kindly took her order: a bloodless daiquiri and Arnold Palmer. He then eyed the grouch sitting next to her. “Raphael?”

“I’m fine for now,” he replied aloofly.

Eva jumped on that like a cat on a mouse. “Raphael like the Angel or like the Ninja Turtle?”

“Like the painter."

“I’m Evangeline, but you can call me Eva.”

“What, no pretentious Shadowhunter name?” 

“If you’d like to hang out sometime and get some coffee, I’ll be happy to tell you.”

“I don’t care _that_ much.”

The bartender came back with her drinks. Eva leaned forward to sip on her Arnold Palmer through the bendy straw before looking at Raphael again. “But really, why do you look so pissed?”

“I always look like this.”

“You’re annoyed about something; no one comes to a club and looks like...” she trailed off, eyes wide. “Did you break up with a girlfriend or something?”

“No.”

“She cheated on you?”

“No!”

“She kicked you out and set your clothes on fire?”

“I’m single!”

“Bingo,” she gestured at him with a finger pistol. “That’s what I wanted to know.”

Embarrassment was leaking from him like a terribly made dam. “You’re annoyingly bold, Shadowhunter.”

“Don’t flatter yourself; I’m not interested,” Eva pointed her thumb over her shoulder. “My friend Izzy’s looking for a blood-sucking boyfriend, though she won’t like that you're such a sourpuss.”

“Fortunate for me,” he scoffed. “You’ve been dragged here, too?”

“So _that’s_ why you’ve got a bug in your butt,” Eva teased further. She wondered how long she could keep this up before he got up and left. 

“Some fledglings in my clan wanted to come here and I have to watch over them,” he said. “It’ll make me look bad if they do something stupid.”

Raphael spoke like an exasperated parent would, but didn’t look more than sixteen. Eva silently wondered how many years separated them. “Izzy drags me to a nightclub every weekend; I know the feeling all too well.” From the corner of her eye, she saw her _parabatai_ jump out of the dancefloor and head straight for her. “Speaking of the devil...”

“This place sucks!” Izzy cried when she was close enough. She reached between Eva and Raphael, snatching the bright red daiquiri from the counter. She gave it three large gulps and set it back down. Eva was sure she didn’t even notice Raphael, but then again, he stood out as much as a tea cup in a china shop. “We’re leaving!”

“ _Whither thou goest, I will go_ ,” Eva recited with her left hand over the _parabatai_ rune under her collarbone. With a flip of her whip-like ponytail, she headed for the exit. When Eva met Raphael’s eyes, he looked as if he’d smelled something putrid.

“I’m _very_ fortunate I’m not her type,” he said.

Eva jumped off the barstool with a laugh. “You have a pen?”

“If I had one, I wouldn’t give it to you.”

“Well, memorize my number,” Eva quickly recited the digits of her phone number as she gathered her purse and looped it over her shoulder. “In case you ever need me for anything.”

Raphael’s face said it all.

_What the hell could I possibly need you for?_


	3. Doña Flor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mexican food is the best.

Eva never expected to hear from Raphael. He was a grouch that tolerated her that night for reasons still unknown. After Eva and Izzy had left  _ The Nightfall _ ,  they bar-hopped until midnight and then headed home. Izzy said Eva was like Cinderella— she always had to be home by midnight.

The following weekend, Eva was thankfully excused from New York City’s nightlife. Izzy was out on a date with a mundane she met at one of the bars last week, and with Jace and Alec on standard patrol that night and Max with Robert in Idris, Eva decided to keep Hodge company in the library. If it wasn’t for him, she would’ve never grown to love fiction and she would’ve never discovered Tolkien, one of her favorite authors, or the magical world of C.S. Lewis or the thrillers of Dan Brown.

Tonight she had a Dickens novel in her hands,  _ A Tale of Two Cities _ , occasionally stopping to ask what a certain historical reference meant, or to define a Victorian-era word that flew over her head. It was nights like this that Eva wondered why Hodge wasn’t married with children of his own; he seemed like such a natural family man. They were both sitting on different armchairs right in front of the fireplace, but were close enough that Eva could slouch and swing her legs over Hodge’s armrest. He sat properly with his back straight and legs crossed at the knees as he always did, and used her shins as a bookrest. 

“Why is Sydney like this?” Eva groaned in frustration. “What made him so self-loathing?”

“He probably has many regrets,” Hodge said, his eyes still running over the book  _ 100 Ways to Cure Burns and Skin Lesions _ . “Things he could’ve done differently in the past that now affects those he loves.”

“I guess,” Eva shrugged. “But he doesn’t have to be so depressing about it.”

“People handle things differently,” Hodge said simply. “Some people drown in their sorrows and whither away, others cast the memories aside like they never happened, others become delusional, others move forward but never forget, some turn to the bottle like Sydney—”

“Which one are you?” Eva asked. When he looked up wide-eyed behind his scholarly glasses, she grinned, “It obviously can’t be the bottle, since you’re a lightweight.”

Eva’s phone chirped with a message, liberating Hodge from providing her with a response. Closing her novel around her forefinger, she reached over to the nearby table for the phone. It was probably Izzy telling her the guy was either a great kisser or an asshole.

It was an unknown number. Frowning, Eva opened the message.

_ The Nightfall. 9 PM. Tonight. _

“Is it Isabelle?” Hodge asked.

“Yes,” Eva sprung out of the armchair, placing  _ A Tale of Two Cities _ where her phone was just a moment ago. “I have to go meet up with her.”

“Is everything alright?”

“Everything’s fine!” Eva dashed out of the library before he could question her further. 

Eva went to her room to change into a pair of dark jeans, a knitted sweater, and boots. She put on her glamoured chakrams as hoop earrings and threw on some mascara and light pink lipstick. Making sure there wasn’t a curl out of place, she grabbed her purse and left the Institute. It was fifteen minutes past ten when she entered  _ The Nightfall _ and saw Raphael sitting on the same barstool the day she first met him.

“You’re late,” he greeted.

“Geez, if I knew you were a stickler for time, I would’ve come earlier,” Eva said. The moment she settled, the bartender came around and refilled Raphael’s snifter with warm blood and placed an Arnold Palmer in front of her. Eva was pleasantly surprised. “Now I feel  _ really _ bad I kept you waiting.”

Raphael simply shrugged and took a sip of his drink. “You didn’t come with your friend.”

“Oh, so you were expecting Izzy?” Eva pouted playfully. “How rude.”

“You seem attached at the hip.”

“She’s off an a date, you know how it is—or maybe not,” Eva stirred her drink with the bendy straw. “What are you doing here again? I thought you’d rather be out sunbathing than here.”

“The fledglings told everyone how great this nightclub was, and now half of the clan is here.”

“Wow, your clan leader must be a doormat.”

“I  _ am _ the clan leader.”

“A very expensive, Turkish doormat that wiped Queen Victoria’s feet,” Eva grinned meekly. “You’re from Queen Victoria’s time, right?”

“More Queen Elizabeth.”

“The first?”

“The second.”

“So is everyone and their mother,” Eva scoffed. “Be more specific.”

“Fine, I’m Pedro Infante old.”

“Who?”

“What are you, an owl?” Raphael looked both amused and annoyed, if that were possible. “Pedro Infante was a Mexican singer; my mother was a diehard fan.”

“Ah,” she nodded slowly. “Still doesn’t help.”

“Fine, I’m sure you know Elvis.”

“ _ Well, since my baby left me! _ ” Eva began in her best Elvis Presley impression. She didn’t know the words and mumbled out of tune before getting to the chorus, “ _ Heartbreak Hotel! _ ”

“I’m starting to regret calling you here,” Raphael shook his head in exasperation. Eva burst into laughter.

“Stop sulking! I’m flattered you remembered my phone number,” she teased. “It means I made a good impression.”

He gave no reply and instead, took a hearty sip of warm blood. When he licked his lips, Eva caught a glimpse of his needle-like fangs. She didn’t know what came over her, but the words just spilled out like an open carton of milk over a table, “If you could eat normal food, what would you have?”

He looked startled by the question. So much so, his eyes darted from side to side almost as if considering the question but realizing the answer might be stupid. “Why?”

Eva shrugged her shoulders.

He paused, almost as if to weigh her intentions behind the seemingly innocent question, but replied without hesitation. Eva sadly realized he must think about the prospect quite a lot. “ _ Enchiladas con mole _ with a side of  _ arroz rojo _ and  _ refritos _ .”

“Never had it, but it sounds delicious.”

“You’ve never had Mexican food at all?” he looked genuinely shocked. With his eyebrows high on his forehead and widened eyes, he looked even younger.

“I’ve had tacos—”

“Were they hard-shelled?”

“Yes.”

“ _ Que asco _ ,” he grimaced. He swigged the rest of his snifter of blood in one gulp and placed it back on the shiny wooden counter with a clank. “Wait here.”

He disappeared into the crowd of dancing vampires, leaving Eva with her half-full highball of Arnold Palmer. He returned in no less than a minute, but didn’t sit down when he approached. “Come with me.”

Her Nephilim senses didn’t flare up, and while the emotions floating around him weren’t too clear, she saw no red flags. She grabbed her purse and followed him outside and around the corner of 10th Avenue. Glamoured to avoid illegal parking tickets—not that Raphael looked like the type to pay them anyway—were about ten motorcycles stationed next to one another on the side of the road. Eva had seen them before: they ran on demonic energy and were, quite notably, not the most legal thing to own under the Law. Nevertheless, they were stunning to look at with their shiny gears and leather handlebars. 

The moment Raphael neared the entirely black one at the very end, it roared to life as if it sensed its owner. He swung a leg over it and pushed the kickstand back with the heel of his expensive leather boot. He was slipping on a pair of gloves when he met her eyes from where she stood on the sidewalk. “Are you coming, or do you prefer to walk all the way to Queens?” 

Eva wasn’t afraid of heights—she was drilled enough on performing somersaults and flips that Cirque du Soleil would be envious. However, there was something about flying over the East River in the dead of night with its dangerous churning waters underneath that made her stomach flutter. She felt her cheeks heat up every time she tightened her arms around Raphael’s midsection, but it was the only thing that made her feel grounded as the East River was left behind to be replaced by the neighborhoods of Sunnyside Gardens. In all her studies, they always said vampires had no scent, but the smell of expensive cologne clung to him like a soothing aura.

“What cologne is that?” she asked. She really needed to install a filter in her mouth.

“ _ Bleu de Chanel _ ,” he replied. She felt the hum of his voice against her forearms. “And yours is…?”

“I’m not wearing any,” she said. “It’s just my hair.”

Raphael descended his motorcycle into a quiet neighborhood in Jackson Heights and parked right in front of a small and simple building with a sign decorated with a red dahlia flower:  _ Doña Flor. _

No one would know it was a family-owned late-night restaurant unless they walked inside. A few tables covered in white cloth overlooked a countertop lined with stools. The walls were decorated with artisanal Mexican knick knacks like colorful skeleton figurines and animal sculptures Eva recognized as  _ alebrijes _ . Frames of black and white photographs were on the walls depicting mustached men on horses dressed in wide-brimmed hats and ammunition belts across their chests while others were of women in traditional Mexican blouses and skirts dancing or cooking for their families. 

“ _ Buenas noches _ ,” Raphael greeted no one in particular. There were a few men at the bar and a family of four at one of the tables. They all greeted him kindly and went back to their meals.

“This place has been here since 1941,” Raphael sat across from her at a linen covered table. It was decorated with a canister of napkins and a little pot with a blooming cactus. “They make the best horchata in Queens.”

“I don’t know what that is either.”

“ _ Dios mio _ ,” he rolled his eyes.

A waitress came around that looked about Raphael’s age, and took their orders. Raphael spoke with her in quick Spanish, reverting to English to ask Eva what she wanted. 

“What you said— _ echi  _ whatever it was,” Eva grinned. Raphael ordered and the teenager left and came back moments later with two glasses of a milky white drink on ice and sprinkled with what smelled like cinnamon.

“This is horchata,” Raphael brought it up to his lips and drank a sip. He grimaced slightly and put it back down. “I promise it tastes good, I just...”

“I know,” Eva cut him off and drank a sizeable gulp. She hummed pleasurably. “This is amazing!”

When the food came, the waitress put a plate in front of Eva. It was an enormous portion, but Eva was wolfing it down eagerly and feared her eyes would roll back into her skull permanently. Raphael suggested to throw Tabasco sauce on the refried beans, and it only got better. She would look up occasionally from her food to see him watching her intently, the ghost of a smile clouding his lips. He nibbled on the complimentary tortilla chips the waitress had brought earlier, but did so more out of embarrassment for not ordering than actually desiring to eat them. Eva was sure he’s trained himself to eat normal food and not wretch, but she figured he preferred to avoid it altogether. 

“Satisfied?” he asked, the amusement obvious in his voice.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to eat again for the next three days,” she leaned back in her chair. She ate the entire plate, scraping off the last bit of the enchilada’s delicious salsa and the last grains of rice. She even drank the horchata he’d ordered. “That was absolutely delicious.”

He didn’t even let her reach for her purse; his vampire speed had him in front of the register at the front counter and paying before she could even blink. As they flew over Queens and the East River, the hum of the motorcycle and Raphael’s intoxicating cologne was lulling her to sleep, and her full stomach wasn’t helping her case. 

He parked the motorcycle around the corner of the Institute, and looked up at her in mild amusement as Eva sluggishly pulled herself off the motorcycle, taking deep breaths from how full she was.

“Sleep it off,” he told her. “You ate too much too fast.”

“Can you blame me?” Eva wasn’t sure if the enormous amount of food she ate was akin to being in a drunken state, but before she could register her own actions, she’d clasped a hand over Raphael’s shoulder and leaned down. He didn’t pull away when she kissed him but if he was going to return her kiss, he didn’t get the chance to; she pulled away hastily. Her cheeks flushed, realizing she might’ve overstepped her boundaries. She couldn’t help but to blame this on her  _ parabatai  _ connection; Izzy’s influence was gushing into her like a fountain.

Raphael’s eyes flickered over her, his face void of any clear emotion. His eyebrows raised to his hairline in subtle amusement, or perhaps shock. His tone; however, was laced with the former. “I’ll let you get away with that.”

His motorcycle roared and he disappeared into Manhattan’s night sky just as Eva entered the Institute. Her heart was pounding against her ribcage, her skin buzzing with excitement and a warmth she felt in her cheeks and chest. His lips were cold against hers, but soft. 

When the elevator doors opened on the desired floor, Eva’s stomach dropped right back down to the ground floor. Arms crossed over his chest and a pinched frown on his face was Hodge. 

“I don’t appreciate lies,” Hodge began firmly. Just by his tone, she could tell he was dead serious. He rarely got angry, and this happened to be one of the rare times he was. Eva stepped out of the elevator as he continued, “Where did you go?”

“Queens,” she said, trying her best at Faerie half-truths. There was no getting past Hodge’s silent rage, though.

“With whom?”

“A guy,” she found no reason to lie to him. She was feeling the  _ worry _ , the  _ relief _ , the  _ disappointment _ , the  _ hurt _ that radiated from him like a blazing hearth. “I met him when I went out with Izzy last week.”

“She came back three hours ago and wasn’t with you,” he eyed his watch. “In case you lost track of time, it’s 2 A.M. and you’re usually home by midnight.”

_ 2 A.M.? Holy shit! _

“I was worried,” Hodge’s voice softened now. “Please don’t lie to me, Eva; I’ve never given you any reason to do so.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Eva looked down at her boots. “I just...I didn’t know how you’d react.”

“How do you  _ think _ I would’ve reacted?”

Eva gave it thought and grinned stupidly at the thought. “You would’ve told me to be careful.”

Hodge smiled. “Go to bed. You’re waking up at the crack of dawn to do drills in the training room until noon.”

“But— ”

“You’re in no position to argue with me,” he told her firmly, but the corners of his mouth were tugged into a smirk. “Off to bed, Evangeline.”


	4. Nonexistent Qualities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because Raphael has very few.

Hodge wasn’t joking about the drills at the crack of dawn. The sun was barely over the horizon and he was pulling away at her covers, urging her out of bed and speaking a little too loudly. He was enjoying it, she could tell. She could feel the wicked satisfaction seeping out of his pores.

She ate a quick breakfast and off to the training room she went, practicing somersaults and high jumps, doing strength and speed exercises, throwing blades and chakrams at moving targets. As if to annoy her, Hodge sat in a nearby chair, relaxing with his favorite Earl Grey tea with a squeeze of lemon and reading a book about the uses of feverfew and chamomile. 

Eva saw stars when the clock struck noon. Her cheeks were flushed and her skin glistened with sweat while her curly hair was frizzy and tangled despite having pulled it up into a tight ponytail. Her muscles were screaming for a rest. Hodge told her to shower and get changed and come to the kitchens for lunch. She did just that.

“I hear you pissed Hodge off,” Jace said with his usual sly grin. He was sitting at the small table in the kitchen, his ankle resting on top of his knee and his muscular arms crossed over his chest. The Agility rune at his throat was just starting to fade. Eva was jealous; Hodge didn’t even let her carve a single rune on herself during this morning’s rigorous training. “That’s quite an accomplishment. Would you like a parade in your honor?”

“I’d prefer to be ashes and honorably scattered in the Silent City,” she slumped into the nearest chair. “In fact, call one of the Brothers. I think I’ll need them to cure me of this exhaustion.”

“Stop complaining.” Hodge walked over to the table, setting down a plate of ham and swiss cheese sandwiches before pushing a mug of tisane towards her. “Drink that. It’ll help.”

“What did you do?” Alec asked, finally looking up from his bowl of leftover spaghetti and meatballs from last night. “You must’ve done  _ something _ .”

“I think Alec is the one that deserves the parade for stating the obvious so expertly,” Jace nudged his  _ parabatai _ in the shoulder. “That takes natural skill, you know.”

Alec frowned at the boy just as Isabelle walked into the kitchen, her long black hair loose over her shoulders. Upon seeing Eva was present, she dashed to the table and hastily sat in the chair next to hers. “Who’s the guy? Tell me everything!”

Eva widened her eyes at Izzy, silently telling her now was not the best time—Hodge was facing away from them towards the sink, but she saw just the slightest turn of his head in their direction. He was so nosy!

Thankfully, Izzy quickly understood and her lips pressed into a thin line. 

“Yes, Eva, tell us about the guy,” Jace prodded teasingly. “Did you at least find someone rich?”

“Yes, he’s my sugar daddy,” Eva tossed a handful of potato chips at him. He laughed, blocking the onslaught with his forearms. “You should get one too; I hear they like pretty boys with bitchy attitudes.”

“Who are you calling  _ pretty _ ?” Jace frowned. “I’m  _ beautiful _ .”

“Children, please,” Hodge sighed in exasperation. He placed a bowl of his homemade fruit cocktail next to the sandwiches and cringed when a potato chip crunched under the sole of his polished dress shoe, the sound seemingly running up his spine like a chill. “Can we get through one day without bickering and making a mess?”

When they finished lunch, Eva went straight for her room and collapsed on her bed. Izzy had followed at her heels and now sat on Eva’s desk chair. She whipped her hair behind her shoulder and leaned back. “Start talking: who is he, where did you go, is he hot, what’s he like, and most importantly—and I cannot stress it enough—what did you _ do _ ?”

Eva answered her barrage of questions as best she could while she fought sleep:  _ Raphael, don’t know his last name but he’s a vampire; we met up at The Nightfall and then went to Queens for a midnight snack at a Mexican place; I suppose he’s attractive if you squint and turn your head; he’s grumpy; we talked and I kissed him.  _

“And?” Izzy accentuated by rolling her wrists in the air. “Did you make out? Did he French kiss you? Did he push you away? Bring you closer? Did he grab your butt?”

“Your imagination is astounding,” Eva groaned into her pillow. “It was quick and he didn’t push me away;  I  was the one who pulled away.”

“Why?”

“I was embarrassed; I didn’t think I would do something like that,” Eva said, blushing at the mere thought of his cold lips. “I never pictured my first kiss would be at 2 A.M. just down the street while he sat on his motorcycle— ”

“He has a  _ motorcycle _ ?”

“Focus, Isabelle,” Eva snapped. “He said  _ he’d let me get away with that _ . What the hell does that mean?”

“Could mean he’s considering you,” Izzy looked up in thought. “It could also mean he thought about killing you for kissing him, but decided not to.”

“Lovely.”

Just then, Eva’s phone chirped from its place on her nightstand. She didn’t even bother to reach for it, not that she would’ve been fast enough to beat Izzy. She went for that phone like Church does on any bug stupid enough to sneak into the Institute. 

“Add unromantic to his list of nonexistent qualities,” Izzy scoffed, showing her the screen.

_ The Met. 9 P.M. Tonight. Be on time. _

“He makes me swoon,” Eva mumbled, her face buried in the pillow. “Text  _ no _ for me, will you? I’m too tired—”

“Whoops.” Izzy snapped the phone closed. Eva rolled her eyes; Izzy did the exact opposite. Her brows furrowed as she scanned Eva’s despairing expression. “What’s wrong? You didn’t like him?”

“I don’t know, Izzy. I barely know him, he’s a Downworlder, and I just kissed him. It’s embarrassing!”

“You say that now because it’s your first time experiencing all this,” Izzy smirked wickedly. “Wait till you get to the good parts.”

“Yes, the butt-groping and the tongue-shoving down my throat sounds exhilarating,” Eva pointed at the door. “Out. Let me sleep.”

Izzy grinned and made her way out, quietly closing the door. Eva was asleep by the time Izzy had walked through the door frame, completely unaware of the message Izzy sent.

_ I’ll get there when I get there. _

* * *

Eva woke up from her long nap at around six P.M. She ventured down to the kitchens for one of the sandwiches left over from lunch earlier and then went back to her room for a royal blue long sleeved shirt, a bomber jacket, dark ripped jeans, chakram hoops, and a pair of suede heeled boots. She didn’t bother with makeup and twisted her still-damp hair into a messy bun. After popping her head into the library to let Hodge know she was going out—he smiled softly in appreciation before giving his blessing—she headed out of the Institute at half past eight. It took her only fifteen minutes to arrive at the grand Metropolitan Museum of Art. Some people were sitting on the steps leading up to the museum, congregated in their little groups, mostly teenagers with nothing better to do or tourists making the best of their time in New York City.

Eva sat down on an empty step and waited, hugging her legs close to her chest. Her mind drifted off, reciting what she might say to Raphael about last night. Should she apologize? Should she even mention it? Will he mention it? And if he does bring it up first, what would be her response? Was it even a good idea to have a relationship with a Downworlder? Izzy does it, but she changes boyfriends like she changes clothes. Eva couldn’t see herself doing that—Hodge always said romantic relationships and marriage were sacred and you should only give yourself to someone you truly love from the bottom of your heart. 

“I swear, I will never understand women.”

Eva would recognize that voice anywhere. Coming up the steps towards her was Raphael wearing a plain white t-shirt, black leather jacket, jeans, and his leather boots. His hair was gelled nicely and his eyes were sharp and ice cold as always.

“What did I do now?” She was thankful he wasn’t awkward around her. In fact, he seemed very comfortable. “I got here early, or did you want me to get here on the dot?”

“You told me you’d get here when you’d get here,” Raphael said. “I figured that meant I’d have to wait for you again so I didn’t bother to get here early.”

“What are you—” Eva stopped herself short, realizing Izzy was the cause of all this misunderstanding. “I didn’t send that; my  _ parabatai _ —Izzy—she sent it. She doesn’t take well to guys telling her what to do, so she responded to you the way she would’ve responded if the message had been for her.”

“Ah.” The acidity that was in his tone a second ago dissolved away just as quickly. It was soft now and his shoulders dropped, releasing the tension. “Well, this is why I tolerate you.”

He took the three steps that separated them and Eva felt her heart was in her throat when he towered in front of her. To her enormous shock, Raphael leaned forward, trying to take her lips with his. She instinctively pulled back, her cheeks burning and her hands trembling. He must’ve sensed her sudden movement, or smelled her pulse quickening just below her skin. He looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “I thought this was established.”

“What?”

“ _ Dios mio _ ,” he rolled his eyes. “Immortality makes you lose the patience for mind games and mixed signals and labeling and all that garbage kids worry themselves with,” he said. “You kissed me last night, so I assumed it would be alright if I kissed you again. What’s the problem?”

“I just didn’t expect it,” Eva blinked. Why was he rendering her speechless? 

“We’re past formalities at this point,” he said. “But for your sake, I’ll indulge your 21st-century teenager dating protocols.”

“Which is?”

“Establishing what this is." He wagged his forefinger between the two of them. “Tell me what this is now, so I don’t waste my time.”

“So I’m just a plaything?” Eva pushed him away from her so firmly, he had to step down a level on the stairs. “Something to pass the time? Something to call when you’re bored?”

“I don’t want to waste my time, as in: if you’re not serious, then I’m not interested.”

“So you...” Eva couldn’t believe the words tumbling from her lips. “You want a serious relationship? With me?”

“I have no patience for flings or no-strings attached arrangements; I wouldn’t be here with you now if that’s what this was.”

“Why?”

“You and your questions,” he said, though it left him more in amusement than in annoyance. “I thought I made it clear.”

“Clear as a brick wall.”

“You’re different,” Raphael shrugged. “You’re the first Shadowhunter I’ve met that isn’t  _ completely  _ annoying.”

“I guess I do deserve a parade,” she joked to herself. “You said you’d indulge my 21st-century teenager dating protocols, so as decreed by Article Two, Section B, there must be a courtship period where we go on dates and you bring me flowers—gardenias are my favorite, by the way—and we hold hands and you let me borrow your jackets—”

“I take it all back; you’re the most irritating Shadowhunter I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting.”

“If you’re extra nice tonight, I might even let you kiss me,” Eva shrugged aloofly. “But I don’t see that happening with your nasty attitude.”

To her shock, he smirked. “I’m a vampire, Eva. I’ve learned to be  _ very _ patient.”

Oddly enough, she was disappointed. She had an overwhelming urge to kiss him.


	5. Helen of Troy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eva discovers Raphael's little secret.

Raphael was like a grumpy cat. He drew his claws and hissed, but with patience and a gentle touch, he was a purring mess. Little by little, Eva was able to squeeze through the cracks in his armor, and even though he’d constantly rebuild his defenses when he felt she was outsmarting him, she’d simply find another way in. Eva could feel the whirlwind of emotions radiating from him. They were mixed and shifted around dramatically, but they became very easy to read. Genuine adoration, then annoyance, then a sense of comfort, then frustration, then blinding joy, then bitterness. It was a consistent cycle. 

“Why are you so angry about falling in love with me?” 

He choked and turned his head away from her to cough. They were up on one of their favorite spots in all of New York City: on the very top of one of the Brooklyn Bridge towers. It became a ritual for Raphael to pick up some food, meet up at the steps of the Met, and then fly on his motorcycle downtown to the Brooklyn Bridge. He’d park it on the top of the tower with the best view of the city’s illuminated skyline, and they’d sit on the stone surface with the warm breeze on their faces. Eva would eat the food he’d bring—tacos al pastor, or sandwiches, or Chinese takeout—and he would sip on blood he kept in a silver-plated flask engraved with his family name and the year it was made,  _ Santiago 1878 _ . He’d explained it had belonged to his great-grandfather and has been passed down in his family, though he’d joked that those that owned it before him would be rolling in their graves if they knew what the flask was being used for.

“What?” was his stupid response. Self-consciousness was oozing from him; she never thought she’d feel such a strong emotion from him. 

“It’s okay to admit it; it’s kind of cute.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh yes you do." She put her box of Indian takeout next to her and wrapped her arms around his midsection. If he had a heartbeat, she was sure it would be racing against her ear. Instead, she only felt his muscles stiffen. “If it’s any consolation, I think I’m falling for you too.”

“How unfortunate,” he said, but his chest rumbled with a chuckle. “Now I won’t be able to get rid of you.”

“You act all tough and grumpy, but you’re a big, blood-sucking teddy bear,” she raised her head to meet his eyes. “Can I ask you something?”

“Absolutely not.”

“When were you going to tell me we’re officially official in the Downworld?” she asked with a smirk. “Izzy and I went on patrol a few nights ago and these vampires were causing trouble over by Hell’s Kitchen—”

“Oh yeah, I heard about this,” he nodded slowly, speaking more to himself than to her. 

She continued, “And the moment they saw me, they tucked tail and ran.”

“I can’t protect you from the demons you fight every day, but I’ll give you any protection at my disposal." He pressed his forehead against hers affectionately. Raphael wasn’t one to express himself verbally, but Eva had a feeling he had no idea his actions spoke volumes. “In the Downworld, you are the New York clan leader’s woman, and anyone that hurts you will risk war with me.”

“I feel like Helen of Troy!” she laughed. “How exciting! How much can I get away with?”

“Don’t go causing trouble for me, either,” Raphael said this firmly, but his smirk gave him away. She loved it when he looked at her like this; like she was the only thing that existed in the world. 

“Or what?”

“Or I won’t buy you horchatas anymore.”

“The horror!” Eva gasped. Raphael smiled and leaned forward to steal a kiss from her. She immediately melted against him and played with his soft hair at the base of his neck. It was such a surreal experience to kiss him; his lips were cold like the rest of his skin, but not as unpleasant as one might think. Books described vampires as undead, as having no pulse, no heartbeat, no body heat, no soul. Even Izzy said vampires were an acquired taste. 

Eva felt completely comfortable in Raphael’s arms, and she couldn’t imagine being in anyone else’s.

“Rapha...” she pulled away, gasping for air. He understood immediately, and chuckled against her cheek. 

“I forget  _ mi angelito _ needs to breathe,” he kissed the corner of her lips. “It’s almost midnight. I should drop you off before that mentor of yours loses his mind.”

“Hodge is slowly accepting I have a boyfriend,” she laughed. “He’s not thrilled you’re a vampire, but if I’m happy, he’s fine with it.”

After about two weeks of late-night dinner dates and outings, Eva confronted Hodge about her relationship with Raphael. He wasn’t too pleased, but Eva could sense it wasn’t disappointment or utter rejection; it was fear and an exasperated acceptance—fear she might get her heart broken, but accepting that she was nearly an adult, and this was something inevitable. The only rule he set down was that she had to be home by midnight, which wouldn’t have been such a problem if it wasn’t for Raphael’s very strict schedule.

Monday through Friday, Raphael insisted he was out of commission from eight P.M. to ten P.M. He couldn’t answer texts, phone calls, or be summoned unless it was a dire—emphasis on  _ dire _ —emergency. Eva had no idea what he had to do during those two hours that was so important, but apparently it didn’t apply to Saturdays or Sundays. At first she didn’t mind, since their dates were limited to weekends, but as their relationship got more serious, she began to wonder. 

“Now I won’t see you until Saturday,” Eva said, watching him swinging a leg over his rumbling motorcycle. He raised his eyebrows and she added, “You have that stupid thing you do from eight to ten, and then we have no time to go anywhere before midnight.”

“It’s not...” Raphael began, but considered it briefly before shrugging his leather-clad shoulders. “Maybe a little.”

“Do you want to tell me what it is?”

“Absolutely not.”

“What, are you in some sort of nerdy club?” she teased. “Raphael Santiago, head of the New York vampire clan and captain of the Manhattan Marvel Comics Club?”

“I have no idea what that is, and no,” his lips were curled up only slightly. “If you really want to know, you have to promise me two things.”

“Name it.”

“You won’t laugh, and you won’t bother me for those two hours,” Raphael said, emphasizing, “ _ At all _ .”

“I swear on the Angel,” she raised her hand in the air.

Eva was extremely curious and spent the entire next day pondering about Raphael’s mysterious, two hour appointments he had every week from Monday to Friday. It couldn’t be some top secret Downworlder meeting, or else she wouldn’t be allowed to attend. He said it wasn’t some nerdy club like a lightsaber dueling club or dungeons and dragons. She thought it might’ve been a job, but not even part-times last two hours. By the time the sun set, Eva gave up on brainstorming.

Eva met with him at the Met and they flew off into the night sky before descending into an alley in Midtown. Hand-in-hand, they walked down the street and, to her shock, Raphael led her into the lobby of the Four Seasons Hotel. The luxury of the lobby alone was enough to have Eva’s jaw drop and eyes widen. Her heart began to pound against her chest as Izzy’s voice overwhelmed her ears. 

_ “Hotels are where it’s going to happen, because you can’t bring a guy back to the Institute, not with Hodge flying around like Hugo, and in your case, Raphael can’t even walk in here without turning to dust. So hotels are the way to go, and make sure it’s a luxury hotel too. Cheap hotel means cheap sex.” _

“Eva?”

Eva jumped. His hand was tight around hers; or was it her hand that was squeezing his? He touched her cheek. “What’s wrong? Your pulse skyrocketed.”

“Nothing,” she smiled and hoped he couldn’t tell what was going through her mind. But knowing him, he probably knew exactly what it was, but didn’t push the topic further. Instead, he led her to the reception desk where the nice lady greeted them and asked them what she could help them with. Raphael asked if the penthouse suite was available, and when the woman confirmed it was, he began to speak in a smooth voice and maintained an intense eye contact. He was hypnotizing her with the  _ encanto _ .

“No one is to come up to the penthouse suite until midnight,” he said, his tone making shivers run up Eva’s spine. The poor receptionist nodded. Raphael added, “I’ll need the key.”

The woman quickly prepared the keycard for him and held it out. Raphael took it and led Eva to the elevators. He explained himself as they began to ascend, “I never stay the entire night, so it doesn’t hurt to abuse my power a little.”

Eva couldn’t help but smile. That smile quickly dissolved; however, when she stepped into the penthouse suite. It was enormous with a modern design, luxurious furniture, shiny floors, windows overlooking the glittering skyline of Manhattan. A grand piano was situated towards an enormous window where she could see both the Empire State and the Chrysler Building. Raphael led her through the suite, clearly aware of its layout, and entered the enormous bedroom with a canopy bed and equally huge wardrobe, work desk, and nightstands. On the wall before the bed was the biggest plasma television Eva had ever seen. 

Wordlessly, Raphael shrugged off his jacket and tossed it onto a nearby armchair. He kicked off his boots and jumped on the king-sized bed. He rummaged through the nightstand drawer until he found the remote. “Aren’t you going to join me?”

“What are you...” Eva was utterly confused, but did as she was told. She took off her cardigan and tossed it next to his jacket, pulled off her Chelsea boots, and climbed onto the bed next to him. He was flipping through channels as she fluffed the pillows against the headboard. She didn’t know what these pillows were made of, but she could tell each one cost more than a pillow should probably be worth. Even the comforter she laid on felt like magic.

“It’s about to start,” Raphael told her as he raised the volume on the television. 

It was Spanish television, and when Mexican mariachi music began to play and title cards of actors’ names and the roles they played began to appear and dissolve away on screen, Eva couldn’t believe her eyes.

“You watch soap operas?” Eva’s jaw unhinged at the mere thought.

“Telenovelas,” he corrected her. “ _ Destilando Amor _ starts at eight, and then  _ Fuego en la Sangre _ is at nine. I watch them back to back.”

Eva was biting her bottom lip, desperately trying not to laugh. “You of all people like to watch Mexican telenovelas?”

“I’m Mexican, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“But they’re so…” she looked for another word, but couldn’t find it. “Sappy.”

“I like them.”

“And you like to watch them in style too,” Eva said, gesturing at the luxury all around them. “I’m sure a single night in this penthouse costs more than the entire budget for one of those telenovelas.”

“I used to watch them at the Dumort, but the reception is terrible and I missed an entire episode once because I couldn’t get the TV working again,” he rolled his eyes at the mere memory of it. “And then someone would always interrupt me, or someone would be talking loudly in the hallway, or a dog would start barking, or an ambulance would drive by, so this was my solution.”

“Abusing your encanto to hypnotize receptionists at luxury hotels to stay in the suites and watch soap operas.”

He shushed her with a finger over her lips. “It’s starting. I want nothing coming out of that sweet mouth of yours.”


	6. Masterpiece

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At least to Raphael, she is.

Was he really so obvious?

_ “Why are you so angry about falling in love with me?” _

Raphael wouldn’t call it  _ anger _ —it was more  _ frustration _ . Vampires don’t have heartbeats, so feeling your heart skip a beat is a foreign concept to the Children of the Night. However, the fluttering referred to as butterflies in the stomach was all too common.

He would park his motorcycle by the sidewalk around the corner of the Institute and lean against it with his hands in his pockets. He’d look up at the stars occasionally, appreciating his enhanced vampire sight and taking in even the slightest twinkle of the invisible stars in New York’s night skies. When he’d hear footsteps, that feeling would explode in his stomach. How was it possible to memorize the sounds of her footsteps?

When he’d meet her eyes, the butterflies would annoy him further and his expression, desperately trying to melt at the sight of her, would pinch in a forced frown. He soon came to realize that keeping up this hard-ass and aloof facade took up a lot of his energy, especially since she was so perceptive of his inner workings anyway. Was she some kind of telepath?

“You look so happy to see me, Rapha,” she joked. There was nothing she could do to extinguish the glow that always seemed to surround her like an angel. Her flawless skin reminded him of creamy champurrado his mother used to make during Las Posadas. She always wore sweaters or jackets, but on the off chance she didn’t, he could see the thin silvery rivers that curled over her neck and her collarbones and disappeared into her scoop necklines. They were everywhere, and he found himself thinking—more often than he should—about how much pleasure it would bring him to trace every single line on her slender body, seeing where they started and where they finished. 

“And I thought I was being subtle,” he smirked. The tips of his fangs had flung out of their sockets, and the first time it ever occurred, he was horrified. He was acting like some fledgling  _ pendejo  _ that couldn’t control himself! Thankfully, she wasn’t frightened, and in fact, it didn’t even deter her from wrapping her arms around his neck to bring him down to her level and kiss him.

Now was no different. The source of his disobedient fangs was the mere scent of her: gardenias, honey, coconuts, and sweet rushing blood. Her heart rate increased when she was near him, and it both flattered him and drove him out of his mind. He always made it a point to drink his fill of blood before going out with her. He couldn’t fathom drinking from her; she was too pure and lovely to be bitten and tainted in such a way.

“You look nice tonight,” she traced her fingers—also lined with thin scars—over the lapel of his blazer. Underneath it was a simple white button-down shirt with golden cufflinks, dress slacks, and polished dress shoes that cost him a pretty penny. 

“You could’ve put in a little more effort, though,” he said. He hooked his thumb into the belt loop of her jeans and tugged. “Jeans? Really?”

“You need to start sending me the dress code before we go out,” she slapped his hand away playfully. “Otherwise I’m going to look like your subjugate.”

Raphael pretended to think about it and it earned him a jab on the arm. “In fact, let’s go to Central Park; I want to sit around on the grass and look at the moon.”

“This suit was expensive, Eva.”

“What’s that phrase you say when you don’t care?”

“ _ Me importa un pinche carajo _ ,” he chuckled, throwing a leg over his motorcycle. “And you’ll pay for this later.”

“I look forward to it,” she planted a kiss on his cheek and then took a seat behind him. When her arms wrapped around his midsection, he felt that flutter again and he rolled his eyes. He was too old to be feeling these things like he was some teenager. Physically he was one, so he supposed that had something to do with it. 

He parked his motorcycle on Madison Avenue and 72nd Street and they walked to a trendy coffee shop. Autumn was starting to breeze through New York and while nights were beginning to cool down, Eva still ordered an iced coffee. Raphael loved to watch the way she studied things intently, most likely a product of her Shadowhunter training. She always scanned menus and lists as if she was trying to decipher a hidden code in them, those golden eyes flickering side to side, up and down. They stood out so beautifully against her skin and the thick curly brown hair that frizzed in certain places added the perfect touch to her beauty. Eva was a work of art; an angel in a Renaissance painting. If Raphael were a painter like his namesake, he would create masterpieces of her.

At night, Central Park was lit by fluorescent street lights that cast shadows unevenly over the blooming, evergreen trees. It was close to nine P.M—on a Saturday, of course—and the Central Park Mall was empty of locals and tourists alike. They took a seat on one of the benches along the seemingly endless walkway and Eva immediately curled up on his side. Her head was on his collarbone, but her hair was so voluminous, it tickled his nose and overwhelmed his senses with the smell of coconuts clinging to her curls. She threw her legs over his and the tip of her boot ran up and down his shin absentmindedly. If he didn’t feel so comfortable, he would’ve told her she was dirtying his expensive pants.

“Rapha?” She craned her neck to look up at him with those breathtaking eyes. “Can I ask you something?” 

“No.”

“If you could go out in the sun, where would you go?”

“You and your questions,” he chuckled. “Last week it was:  _ what deodorant would I prefer if I had the ability to stink. _ ”

“Just answer me,” she poked his belly playfully. He couldn’t help but sigh in exasperation, despite having no need to.

“I would go to Rockaway Beach,” he threw his head back and closed his eyes to picture it as he remembered it fifty years ago. “I used to go there with my friends and family in the summers. There’s something so breathtaking about the way the sun reflects off the surface of the water and...” He trailed off when he felt her staring with a goofy grin on her face. He frowned immediately. “What?”

“Nothing,” she said, still smiling. “You just talk about it with such passion, it makes me smile.”

He shrugged. “You start longing for such insignificant things when you can’t have them.”

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I don’t know what else to say, but I’m sorry.”

Raphael’s never told her how he was Turned, and despite her barrage of questions, she’s never once asked him. He was grateful for it—she was more interested in knowing about such dumb things that they ended up being more intimate than telling her the story of his Turning.

He couldn’t resist and took her breath away with a deep kiss, holding her cheek softly in his hand as he spread her lips with his own. She melted against him, her hands clutching onto the lapels of his jacket. He could smell the blood rushing to her cheeks and he could feel the heat of her skin through his fingertips.

“Keep that up and you might swallow each other.”

They quickly parted their heated kiss and Raphael glared at the three Shadowhunters standing before them, dressed in full black gear and armed for battle. The one who spoke, who Raphael knew as Jace Wayland, was smirking wickedly, “I never knew vampires swallowed their prey whole.”

“You guys are on patrol without me?” Eva pouted. 

“You were out on a date,” Isabelle shrugged her small shoulders. “We didn’t want to bother you.”

“You’re bothering us now,” Raphael said bitterly.

“We’re actually here because there’s been a report of a demon in this area,” Alec said, ever so serious and focused. “Mundanes have been going missing; they think it’s a serial killer.”

“Any guess on what kind?” Eva untangled herself from Raphael swiftly and stood to approach them. Raphael merely leaned back on the bench with his ankle resting on his knee casually. It was eerie how Eva could go into Shadowhunter mode like flicking on a lightswitch. Their conversation about the modus operandi of various demon species fell on deaf ears as Raphael let his mind wander aimlessly. 

Until his keen nose picked up the sudden smell of rotting flesh.

“Quiet, all of you,” Raphael sprung up on his feet. They fell silent as Raphael took in the air through his nose. “It’s lurking.”

The ruby on Isabelle’s throat began to glow brightly as Jace pulled out his Sensor and the device began to light up and beep. He spoke with an air of excitement, “Vamp’s right; it’s close.”

“Of course I’m right,” Raphael glared at them all. His words fell on deaf ears, though. Eva reached for the hoops she always wore and pulled the glamour off them quickly to reveal razor-sharp chakrams. Izzy brandished her whip, Alec readied his bow, and Jace replaced his Sensor with a seraph blade.

“Well, this is annoying,” Raphael said. “This is what I get for dating a—”

He couldn’t finish. A screeching cry, like nails on a chalkboard, echoed through the deserted park, making their ears ring. It wasn’t even close to winter yet, but the air became bitter cold in a second. Raphael felt none of it and only realized the drastic change in temperature when he could see white mists forming in front of the Shadowhunters’ lips. 

The fluorescent lights illuminating the walkway all went out simultaneously, leaving them in full darkness with only the city lights glowing in the distance. Witchlight stones replaced the streetlights.

“Keep an eye out, vamp,” Jace’s annoying voice called out. Raphael could see the glow of their steles tracing runes on any available patch of skin. Izzy was quickly drawing the entire Gray Book on Eva’s arms and neck and even her stomach. “Make yourself useful in this darkness.”

“Shut up, Jace,” Eva snapped. 

Jace would have replied if he’d had the time. That ear-ripping shriek bit into them again and with it came a grotesque scorpion creature appearing a short distance away in the middle of the walkway. Its pointed head was horned and its mouth lined with overlapping fangs. It stood at least seven feet in height, but when it stood up on its many hind legs, it was bordering on ten feet tall. 

“Nephilim,” the voice was surprisingly smooth and female. It certainly didn’t match the terrifying red eyes floating like side-by-side lasers in the darkness. Its tongue was forked like a snake’s. “I’ve been expecting you.”


	7. Raziel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens when you name your seraph blade Raziel?

The arcs of light produced by Jace and Alec’s seraph blades provided much needed illumination and the crack of Izzy’s whip counterbalanced the whistle of Eva’s chakrams. The demon seemed less than interested in Raphael, so he stood back and watched as the four Shadowhunters did the job they were born to do.

Her stinger was enormous and quick; Eva was sure even Raphael was having trouble keeping an eye on it. It seemed to be covered in some sort of impenetrable carapace that would only be scratched by their weapons. Not even Izzy’s whip could get a good grip on it.

“I say we go for the head,” Jace groaned in frustration. His arms and elbows were scraped from a hard landing a few minutes ago and his golden hair was sweat plastered on his face. Izzy and Alec were in a similar state, and Eva was just grateful she decided to wear jeans and boots and not a dress and heels. 

“I’m open to _ any _ option,” Raphael grumbled, absentmindedly touching Eva’s back in silent affection. She appreciated the gesture, and it gave her a jolt of energy. 

The demon taunted them with her smooth voice, “How unfortunate the Nephilim aren’t as strong as I’d hoped. This has become a rather boring—”

The creature screeched when a knife sliced the side of her face; Jace didn’t even let her finish before hurling that knife her way. Her red eyes seemed to glow brighter as she hissed and lunged for them again. They all jumped out of the way but she spun around and the length of her stinger swept her entire left side. Alec was flung into the air and landed on his side on a nearby bench, the wind knocked out of his lungs so hard, he coughed a bit of blood. Jace was also caught in the blow and was tossed like a ragdoll against the walkway, rolling like a log in a river’s current. Now his other arm was equally scraped.

Izzy swung her whip and caught one of the demon’s legs in it. The creature screeched in protest and if it wasn’t for Eva hurling one of her chakrams and slicing the leg clean off, Izzy would’ve been tossed into the air higher than her brother. 

“Go check on them!” Eva screamed. Thankfully, Raphael knew she was talking to him. Eva saw him get to Alec’s side just as she ducked under the demon’s stinger and pulled out the chakram lodged into the sidewalk. The floor was slippery with ichor from the demon’s missing leg; Eva nearly slipped on it.

Izzy’s whip cracked again, but the demon caught it in one of her clawed hands. The skin of her palm sizzled from the contact, making them all gag with the putrid smell. It visibly hurt the demon, but she laughed loudly when she managed to fling Izzy aside, whip and all. Jace found an opening and jumped onto her shoulders, his glowing seraph blade held high in the air. The demon flailed and shrieked so high, it could shatter glass. Her harsh movements prevented Jace from sinking his blade into her skull and instead, had him holding on for dear life. Knowing Jace, he wasn’t going to let go and miss the opportunity to kill it. But with his determination came a blindspot, and Eva’s stomach dropped when she saw the demon’s stinger lining up and pulling back to dig into his back.

“Jace!” Eva cried and hurled her chakram towards the stinger. Alongside her chakram flew two of Alec’s silver arrows and, while they did nothing to slice off the stinger, it deterred its path. The demon angrily slammed herself into the ground, crushing Jace into the walkway and cracking the pavement. He groaned in pain and rolled onto his side as the demon jumped away and screamed, black drool dripping from her forked tongue. 

“Jace!” Alec called out. He was in a crouch, holding onto Izzy’s arm for support while Raphael stood nearby. His bow was in his free hand. “Are you alright?”

“I’m just fine! A couple of broken ribs, a ruptured lung maybe!” Jace cried back, forcing himself onto his hands and knees, trying to stand, but grunting in pain. He must’ve really broken something.

A sudden feeling of breathlessness overwhelmed Eva, almost as if she was being possessed by a higher being. Everything around her began to move slowly like those cheesy scenes in thriller action films. Alec’s mouth moving as he shouted at Jace while the golden-haired boy was still hunched over on the pavement, clutching his side with his left hand. Izzy’s mouth was moving too, but she was looking straight at Eva, as was Raphael, only his eyes were wide and his lips parted and unmoving. She could see the flash of his fangs just under his upper lip.

Even Eva’s head turning to look around was agonizingly slow. The demon was ahead of them on the walkway, her forked tongue licking her lips as if she was savoring a delicious meal, her eyes glowing like bright red car headlights, her stinger wagging behind her like a dog’s happy tail. Eva’s head turned one final time to look at Jace, now on one knee, still holding his side. Her eyes moved just a bit lower onto the cracked pavement outlining where his body had just been slammed into. His seraph blade. 

Now, things moved too quickly. Eva dropped her chakram and dashed for Jace, swept up the seraph blade in her hand and ran straight for the demon. She faintly heard someone crying out her name—it might’ve been Izzy, or Raphael, or Alec, or Jace—but she heard none of it; the air rushing through her ears made her deaf to any outside noise. The momentum of her running and the Agility rune carved into her arm allowed for an arched long jump straight for the demon’s face.

The path of her jump was halted abruptly. The demon’s stinger had drawn itself back and dug into her abdomen, suspending her in the air like a jacket on a coat rack. The pain was immediate, and the burning sensation seeping into her skin made her cry out. The demon looked pleased she caused her so much agony and laughed. 

“Little Nephilim, trying to be the hero in her fairytale,” she taunted. “You should know the real ones seldom end happily.”

With her free hand, Eva gripped the carapace of the stinger. The palm of her hand stung and bled from the contact; the shell protecting it was covered with millions of stiff needles. Her other hand, tightly holding onto the seraph blade, raised up over her head. It was trembling from the excruciating pain coursing through her body and Eva thought her voice would fail, that it would die on her lips. Thankfully, it left her nice and clear.

“Raziel!”

Raphael heard a simultaneous gasp between Alec and Izzy and then a burst of white light exploded from the blade in Eva’s trembling hand. The light seemed to consume him, his eyes squeezing shut and his body curling away from it. To his shock and horror, his skin began to erupt with blisters and sizzle as if he was standing in front of a beam of light. For all he knew, Eva had brought down the sun like a meteor crashing into earth.

As quickly as the light erupted, it extinguished. Raphael hissed at the blisters on his hands and neck as his sun-dazzled eyes adjusted quickly. In the dimness, he could see Eva’s form on the pavement. 

Despite the injuries, the possible broken bones and concussions and burn blisters, they all rushed to her. She was breathing heavily, her eyes unfocused and half-lidded. With every rapid rise and fall of her chest, a fountain of blood gushed from the gaping hole in her abdomen.

“Eva! Oh my god—Eva!” Izzy’s face was streaked with tears, her fingers digging into her matted hair and tugging fiercely. Raphael hastily shrugged off his jacket and pressed it onto her abdomen. Her blood immediately soaked through; he could feel its warmth on his palms as he held the thick fabric down firmly. For once, the smell of her blood was revolting.

“My motorcycle is on Madison and 72nd—get it!” Raphael barked. Jace sprung up and dashed down the walkway, kicking up the ashes the demon left behind when it burned out of this world.

“ _ Mírame, mi ángel. _ ” Raphael couldn’t help the Spanish leaving his lips breathlessly. He touched her face with his free hand, patting her cheek firmly. “ _ Despierta, mi cielo. No te duermas _ .”

Izzy was sobbing, her hands trembling as they carved  _ iratzes  _ on her skin. They did nothing and the blood kept gushing. Eva coughed and blood stained her pink lips. Izzy choked and kept drawing  _ iratzes _ , even though they didn’t work.

“She’s losing too much blood,” Alec said, his voice wavering. Raphael met his brilliant blue eyes, wide with fear and dread. “You have to bite her.”

“No!” Raphael cried. “I won’t—”

“You have to!” Alec insisted. “Vampire saliva can increase her red blood cell count—”

“It’ll just make her bleed faster!” Izzy screamed hysterically. 

“It can make her stronger for a short amount of time,” Alec continued, ignoring his sister’s outburst. His eyes were on Raphael. “You know that’s true!”

Raphael was torn. He looked down at Eva, half-conscious, trembling in pain, coughing up droplets of blood, the wound gushing underneath his ruined jacket. He feared his fangs would refuse to emerge, but they slid out of their sockets quickly like fine needles. He turned Eva’s head slightly and, squeezing his eyes shut, he leaned down into the crook of her neck and sank his fangs into her.

Her blood exploded into his mouth and it was the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted in his life. A groan rumbled in his chest as his taste buds burst like fireworks, leaving him dizzy like no blood has ever made him feel. It tasted divine, like the mythological nectar of the Olympian gods. He couldn’t resist the animalistic urge in him and drank two additional gulps of her blood before pulling himself away. He licked his lips, refusing to let even the smallest droplet of her blood go to waste. His skin was humming and for a brief minute, Raphael felt as if he had the warmth of a normal body temperature.

Eva’s eyes were open wide and her chest was rising and falling at a normal pace. Her eyes landed on her  _ parabatai _ and her lips moved to form a whisper, “Izzy...”

“I’m here!” she called out, sobbing through her words. “You’re going to be okay! I promise!”

She mumbled something else, but it was drowned out by the loud screeching of rubber wheels on the pavement. Jace jumped off the motorcycle as Raphael carried Eva easily in his arms, took a seat on the fine leather seat, and revved the engine. 

There was no need for words. Raphael took off into Manhattan’s night sky, one hand steering the motorcycle while the other was wrapped around Eva’s shoulders. Her blood was seeping into his white shirt and his jacket flew away into the air. 

He landed on the street in front of the New York Institute and was sweeping Eva into his arms just as the rapid footfalls of Izzy, Jace, and Alec were audible from further down the sidewalk. The doors of the Institute flung open and their mentor, whom Raphael knew by name but had never personally met, was standing just behind the doorframe. Raphael found it strange Hodge Starkweather made no move to go into the courtyard and take Eva from him.

“I’ve sent for the Silent Brothers,” Hodge said in a voice that was surely at least three octaves higher than it normally was. He looked on the verge of losing his mind. Raphael passed Eva into Jace’s arms and the boy dashed into the Institute, Hodge close behind. Izzy ran in after them.

“I’ll take you to the Sanctuary,” Alec offered quickly. Despite his body language appearing calm, his eyes were frenzied.

* * *

“She just ran up to the demon!”

“Why would she  _ do _ that?”

“I don’t know, but she was stabbed by the stinger!”

Jace was hurrying down the hallways with Eva in his arms as Hodge and Izzy kept up behind him. Izzy was retelling the events of the night as quickly as possible through her sniffles.

“She took Jace’s seraph blade and...” Izzy choked. “She named it Raziel.”

Hodge’s outburst of surprise was drowned out by the sound of Jace kicking open the infirmary door. He set Eva down on the closest empty bed and began rummaging through the medicine cabinet for bandages and tape. Izzy took Eva’s hand and squeezed as Hodge and Jace worked together to bandage her up as best they could to halt the bleeding. Eva had begun to breathe heavily again and her forehead was beaded with sweat, her cheeks flushing and skin burning up with a vicious fever. 

Alec burst into the room followed by the ghostly presence of two Silent Brothers in their parchment robes.

_ As her parabatai, Isabelle Lightwood may stay _ , one of them said, his neutral yet firm voice resonating in all of their minds.  _ Everyone else must leave the room immediately.  _


	8. Magic Saliva

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That's the scientific name for it.

It’s been two hours, and still no word.

Hodge was pacing the corridor frantically, his face pinched in a dark frown and shoulders stiff with stress. Alec and Jace leaned against the wall adjacent to the infirmary’s entrance. Jace indeed had a few fractured ribs, but they’d been fixed nicely with  _ iratzes _ , as were Alec’s cuts and bruises. Hodge had quickly made them all a calming tisane to drink, but it didn’t affect them too much. They were all on edge.

Their stomachs dropped when one of the Silent Brothers emerged from the infirmary. He was the oddest one on the two: his eyes and mouth were not sutured together and he had a full head of dark hair with a single streak of silver in it. The only thing that denoted his rank in the Brotherhood was his parchment robe and the scars on his cheekbones. 

_ She has been stabilized _ , Brother Zachariah spoke in their minds and they all let out a collective sigh of relief.  _ She is still unconscious and will not wake for the next few hours. _

Eva lay on the bed limp and pale; only the slow rise and fall of her chest gave her any sense of life. Her bloody clothing was thrown out and she was now dressed in a soft hospital gown that blended into the bedding underneath her. Thankfully, the blood that stained her lips and jawline when she coughed it up had been wiped away. Aside from her frizzy and tangled hair, she was perfectly neat.

Isabelle looked up as they entered the room. Her look of despair had long dissolved away and was now replaced with utter relief and exhaustion. Her hand was holding onto Eva’s gently.

_ We have extracted the poison from her _ , the second Silent Brother, Enoch, began.  _ Have her on a liquid-based diet for the next few days to allow her body to recover from the trauma. _

“I’ll brew some tisanes,” Hodge nodded, removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes. He looked like he hadn’t slept in a month. They all did.

_ While we worked, Isabelle explained what occurred _ , Brother Zachariah spoke. However, his voice only resonated in Hodge’s mind and in Brother Enoch’s.  _ Evangeline called upon Raziel. _

Hodge slid his glasses back on, his eyes trailing over the teenagers huddling over Eva’s bedside. Seeing as they were not paying attention to him, Hodge nodded quickly in response.

_ This is not surprising _ , Enoch chimed in.  _ Throughout history, those who have been foolish enough to call their blades after the Angel have been consumed by heavenly fire and turned to ashes, but Raziel could not refuse her summons. _

Hodge nodded again, slower this time. His eyes were fixed on Eva, on her peaceful, sleeping face. 

_ She was recently bitten by a vampire, _ Brother Zachariah said. Everyone’s head perked up, meaning he spoke to them all. The Brother seemingly floated to Eva’s side and with a gentle hand, turned her head to reveal two small puncture wounds on her jugular.  _ Who drank from her? _

“Raphael,” Hodge spat bitterly. Eyes wide with blinding rage, he turned to the only person who would know the details of Eva’s personal love life: Isabelle. “He’s been  _ feeding _ from her? Using her for easy meals?”

“I suggested he bite her,” Alec stepped forward. “She was losing blood, and I’ve read vampire saliva acts as a stimulant, increasing the red blood cell count in the body and temporarily strengthening the bitten person.”

_ You are correct, Alexander Lightwood, and I commend you for your quick thinking, _ Brother Enoch said.  _ Vampire saliva has restorative properties; it temporarily halted the effects of the demonic poison in her body and allowed for easier extraction. _

“Is that the only bite mark on her body?” Hodge was still fixed on the issue. His pale cheeks were flushed and his fists clenched at his sides. Hodge wasn’t a fighter, but his students were shocked to see he looked about ready to march down to the Sanctuary and give Raphael a right hook to the jaw.

_ We saw no other puncture wounds anywhere on her body, Hodge Starkweather _ , Brother Zachariah reassured him.  _ New or old. This is the first and the only one.  _

Hodge’s shoulders slumped, but his expression was still bitter. 

“Speaking of the vamp, we should get down there and give him the news,” Jace said, his arms crossed over his chest. “He’s probably going crazy.”

* * *

Crazy was an understatement. Raphael had not tossed the furniture in the room because they were not his. Otherwise, every chair, table, and decoration in this Sanctuary would’ve been turned over and shattered. Instead, his frustration and fear simmered just below the surface of his pale skin, his head in his hands as he sat on one of the many cushioned chairs. His legs were bouncing nervously, the heels of his expensive dress shoes echoing in the empty and dim unhallowed hall. His white shirt was ruined with Eva’s drying blood and after unclasping his golden cufflinks and stuffing them into his pocket, he rolled up his sleeves to his elbows. He felt like he was suffocating, despite not needing to breathe.

The doors of the Sanctuary opened and Raphael was on his feet, his eyes glaring daggers into Jace Wayland and Alexander Lightwood.

“How is she?” he asked hastily, meeting them halfway as they walked inside the Sanctuary. “Is she going to be alright?”

“Alec was right; your magic saliva worked,” Jace grinned. “She’s unconscious for the next few hours, but she’s going to be fine. Liquid-based diet for a few days to help her recover.”

“And you might want to watch out for Hodge,” Alec said. “He wasn’t too happy to hear you bit Eva—the Silent Brothers said there weren’t any other bite marks on her, but I think Hodge is convinced you’re using her for free meals.”

“And if you are, we’ll kill you,” Jace threatened with a smile on his face. 

“I’m afraid you’ll have to get in line,” Raphael rolled his eyes. “Isabelle has already threatened to kill me if I break her heart, and now with your mentor that’s two, so I suggest you work on deciding who will be third and fourth in line on your own time.”

Raphael swallowed his pride and asked them to tell Isabelle to let him know the moment Eva woke up. They agreed to pass on the message and led him out of the Sanctuary and onto the sidewalk behind the Institute. He thought about projecting and appearing in the infirmary, but it only made bitterness rise in his throat. He wouldn’t be able to touch her, to hold her or kiss her. He would only be able to look at her and the thought of seeing her unconscious made his stomach turn. He would prefer to hear her voice, at least.

His motorcycle was where he left it in front of the Institute. The engine rumbled to life as he neared it and the moment he swung his leg over it and settled down, a voice touched the innermost part of his mind.  _ Raphael Santiago. _

A string of rapid curses left him as he whipped his head around to catch the sight of two Silent Brothers, their features obscured by their parchment hoods. Raphael grumbled, “ _ Dios mio _ .”

_ You bit Evangeline in an attempt to save her life, _ one of them said. Raphael assumed it was the same one who called out to him, but since their mouths didn’t move and their body language was nonexistent, it was difficult to tell who spoke.  _ Did you consume her blood? _

Raphael was still feeling the gnawing guilt from indulging himself when he bit her. He only wanted to sink his fangs into her and let his saliva flow into her bloodstream, but he couldn’t resist drinking three full gulps of her blood. It was delicious and sweet like tangy wine. Just remembering the taste of it was making his skin crawl and his fangs itching to slide out. 

He was disgusted with himself.

“It was inevitable to drink from her,” he chose his words carefully. 

_ You will find that from this day onwards, the things that once hurt you will hurt you no longer. _

Again, Raphael had no idea which one of the two spoke to him. “What do you mean?”

The two Brothers said no more and simply drifted away, the streetlights casting no shadows on them, nor did their footsteps make any noise on the street. They disappeared into the darkness of the night, leaving Raphael pondering over their words. 

He revved his motorcycle and took off into the night sky, flying over the millions of city lights and into his old neighborhood. It was close to two A.M. but the lights inside Santa Cecilia Catholic Church were still lit. The building was concrete and wood, constructed in 1923, and was now painted ivory as opposed to the dark brown it once was when he was a child. Clenching his jaw, he approached the doors of the church. Normally, being so close to a door bearing the cross of Christ would make him cringe as an otherworldly force urged him to move away.

He didn’t feel it.

He pressed his palm against the wooden door and pushed it open. Squaring his shoulders, he took a step inside, hearing the hardwood floors creak underneath his dress shoes. 

No crippling pain. No migraine. No revulsion.

He forced his legs to take him forward. He was walking on hallowed ground, and yet, he felt absolutely nothing. Raphael stood in the aisle with rows of cushioned benches on either side of him and looking up, he met the eyes of Jesus overlooking the entire room, his enormous stone head curled into his shoulder, his arms outstretched and hands bloody where the nails crucified him to the cross. Over his head covered in thorns were the letters I.N.R.I.

“Do you need a place to sleep, young man?” a voice echoed in the empty hall. Raphael turned to see a priest in his mid to late-forties in a black shirt, matching pants, and white clerical collar around his neck. When he was close enough, the priest’s eyes immediately trailed down and he visibly paled. Raphael realized what he was looking at immediately.

“That isn’t blood,” he said smoothly, looking into the priest’s eyes intently and charming him with the  _ encanto _ . “I spilled wine on my shirt.”

“I can get you a set of clean clothes, if you’d like,” the priest suggested, the color returning to his face as he smiled. 

“That’s alright, I won’t be here long.” Raphael turned back to the crucifix of Jesus Christ. He’s never been able to look directly at the Son of God and not flinch and gag. Despite all the rigorous training he put himself through to pass as normal, the pain it caused him never left entirely. Raphael simply learned to tolerate it.

“How long has it been since you’ve entered God’s house?”

_ Fifty years  _ would be the correct answer, but Raphael said, “A long time.”

“He will forgive you, my son,” the priest reassured him. “He understands and He will forgive you.”

“Forgive me for what?”

“For whatever it is that’s troubling you,” he said. “He knows everything.”

Raphael nodded and after the priest reminded him that he could stay the night if he wished, Raphael turned on his heel and went for the door. Just before he could walk through the doorframe, he caught sight of the marble basin filled to the brim with perfectly still and clear water.  _ Holy water. _

Without hesitating, he dipped his fingers into the basin. A surge of amazement rushed through every fiber of his body as he saw the water dripping from his slender fingers when he held them up to the dim light. It didn’t hurt him, nor did it burn his skin off and leave blisters behind. With the adrenaline pumping through him, he brought his hand to his lips and licked the holy water off his middle finger. 

It was tasteless and cool. 

A howling laugh left his throat. He could feel the confused state of the priest behind him, but Raphael couldn’t care less. He took the edges of the basin and submerged his head into it as if he were baptizing himself. He laughed under the water, making it gurgle and create bubbles on the surface. He pulled himself out and the water ran down his neck and soaked his collar and shirt. He then raked his fingers through his drenched hair, licked his lips, and blinked the droplets of water from his lashes. 

He left the church laughing hysterically. 


	9. Daylighter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If there's one thing Raphael's afraid of, it's Hodge Starkweather.

Eva dreamed she was walking through a vast golden hall with shimmering marble pillars that towered endlessly above her head. She felt tiny in such an enormous and eerily silent place. Each pillar held a torch with a fire that burned so bright, it hurt her eyes. Shadows danced around her, but she couldn’t distinguish them.

_ You called upon me, and I answered your plea. _

The voice was deep, yet melodic. Like the sound of a cello.

_ But do not say my name in vain, for you have not risen to the height of Heaven. _

Eva’s eyes fluttered open, focusing on the curved ceiling of the infirmary. Her entire body felt like it’s been tossed in a meat grinder and then slammed against concrete. Her muscles screamed as she shifted on the bed and a whimper left her throat beyond her control.

“Let me help you.”

The ever reliable and fatherly Hodge sprung from his seat at her bedside and helped her sit up. He fluffed pillows behind her and let her fall back against them. Eva hissed in pain but was grateful to be comfortable. She turned to look at him, feeling an overwhelming aura of relief and exhaustion radiating from him. “How long have I been asleep?”

“A few hours,” he replied, gesturing at the blue-orange tinge of twilight glowing just outside the infirmary window. “It’s almost sunrise.”

“Is everyone alright?” 

“Jace and Alec are fine and sleeping,” Hodge swiveled around on his chair to reach for a white curtain behind him. He pulled it back to reveal Izzy deeply asleep in the adjacent bed. He let the curtain fall back into place as he continued, “Izzy refused to leave your side; she fell asleep an hour ago and I set her down here so she’d sleep more comfortably.”

Eva nodded slowly. “Raphael?”

To her surprise, rage exploded from Hodge like a roaring flame despite only frowning slightly. “He left after the Silent Brothers said you’d recover.”

A thick silence fell upon them. Eva never felt awkward around Hodge, but there was a jumble of emotions simmering just below the surface of him that were hard to pick apart. There was relief, anger, exhaustion, guilt, worry, happiness. She wondered which he’d choose to act upon first.

“Are you hungry?”

Eva smiled softly. “A bit.”

He reached for a large mug and removed the plastic lid over it, letting ribbons of steam dissolve into the air. It smelled delicious; it was his famous and very filling chicken bone broth.

“The Silent Brothers prescribed a liquid-based diet,” he began as Eva took the mug in her hands and sipped the broth gingerly. Silence fell upon them again with only Eva’s soft slurping filling the room. Finally, Hodge began the lecture Eva knew was coming her way. “You’re never this reckless.”

“I don’t know what came over me,” she admitted. She wrapped her fingers around the mug, loving the warmth it provided. “It just felt right to grab that seraph blade and—”

“And call upon Raziel?”

“I know you’ve always taught us that’s an unspoken rule that must not be broken,” she stared at the reflection of her golden eyes on the broth. “That people who call upon Raziel suffer the wrath of the Angel by bursting into flames and then die on the spot.”

“There has never been a different outcome,” Hodge said firmly. “But the Angel chose to answer you and let you live—perhaps he thought the nearly mortal wound you received was enough punishment for invoking his name.”

“ _ Pendejo _ ,” she grumbled under her breath, grateful for Raphael’s lessons in Spanish cuss words. They were much more fun to use. “It just felt right to do that. I can’t explain it.”

“I had to tell Maryse what happened, but she’s agreed to keep this all within the Institute; it’s not explicitly against the Law to call upon Raziel, so she’s not obligated to tell the Clave,” Hodge said. “But that leaves me to lecture you children, especially Jace. Nothing happened to you, so there’s no stopping him from trying to attempt it as well.”

“Jace is an idiot, but he knows better,” Eva laughed but immediately regretted it and winced from the pain. “What I did was a miracle; it won’t happen again.”

The curtain behind Hodge was pushed aside and Izzy rushed to Eva’s side. If it wasn’t for him snatching the mug of chicken broth from her hands, it would’ve spilled all over from how roughly Izzy pulled her into a hug.

“You idiot!” Izzy scolded fiercely. “If you ever scare me like that again I’ll kill you myself!” 

“I love you too, Iz,” Eva laughed. Hodge sighed in exasperation and after insisting Eva drink the chicken broth, he left the room to leave the  _ parabatai  _ alone in the infirmary. As the door closed behind him, Izzy was tapping away at her phone. Eva drank a gulp of chicken broth. “Who are you texting?”

“Your boyfriend,” she snapped the phone closed. “He told Jace and Alec to tell me to text him the moment you woke up.”

Eva’s heart fluttered at the thought of his concern for her. He must’ve dreaded asking Jace and Alec for that favor, even if it was as simple as passing on a message. 

Izzy squeezed her hand. “I thought you were going to die, Eva. I saw those Silent Brothers sucking that disgusting black poison out of you with tubes and you wouldn’t stop bleeding until most of it was gone. Thank the Angel Alec told Raphael to bite you.”

“He  _ bit _ me?” Eva was astonished. One of the first rules Raphael set down for their relationship, apart from his eight to ten P.M. telenovela time, was that he would never drink from her for any reason. He simply refused to and while Eva found no problem with it, he was adamant. “How did you even manage to convince him?”

“Vampire saliva increases your blood cell count and stopped the poison in you from spreading,” Izzy explained. “Even the Silent Brothers confirmed it.”

Eva now understood why Hodge was seething with rage when she asked for Raphael’s well-being. He most likely thought Raphael was feeding from her whenever they went out on dates. This was going to be a mess, Eva knew.

“You must be exhausted,” Eva said. “Take a shower and go to sleep. I appreciate you refusing to leave my side, but you need to think about your own health too.”

“Not until I knew you were going to be fine,” she huffed with a flip of her hair. “But now you are, so I’m going to take a hot bubble bath and do a clay mask.”

“Maybe when this chicken broth starts to kick in, I can work on detangling this rat’s nest on my head,” Eva joked, tugging her knotted curls.

Izzy left the infirmary and was making her way to her bedroom when her phone began to chirp with a call in her back pocket. She was shocked to see who it was before she answered it. “Well, this is a surprise, Raphael.”

“You’re telling me,” he grumbled on the other side. “And it’s about to get worse—I need a favor.”

“Did that demon whack you over the head?”

“I’m not sure what’s going on—just listen to me,” he said. “I need you to sneak me into the Institute tonight.”

“Are you insane? This is hallowed ground.”

“I’m aware of that and I appreciate your overwhelming concern for my health.”

“It’s all for Eva’s sake; don’t get it twisted.”

“And here I thought you liked me,” he scoffed. “Will you do it or not?”

“Yeah sure, just wait for my call,” Izzy said. “Hodge is orbiting around Eva like she’s the center of the universe, and he’s not too happy that you bit her so watch out.”

“I’ve already been warned about the bounty on my head, thank you,” Raphael said dryly. “I’ll be expecting your call tonight.”

* * *

Eva left the infirmary later that afternoon when her soreness was slowly leaving her muscles. The moment she walked into her bedroom, she wasted no time in taking a long shower. She washed her hair and carefully detangled each thick section with a comb. After finishing her shower and smoothing a coconut-scented curl cream and gel into her hair, she rummaged through her drawers for underwear and her pajamas. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror on her vanity and her eyes immediately went for the scar the demon’s stinger left behind. It wasn’t as big as she’d thought it would be; it closed quickly thanks to the three  _ iratzes _ that had yet to dissolve away on her skin. It was a circular scar, about two inches in diameter, and looked almost like one of the Moon’s craters with jagged skin around the edges. 

She slipped into a T-shirt and polka dot pajama pants before slipping under the covers. Earlier that morning, Raphael had projected himself in the infirmary and informed her in a hushed voice that he would be visiting her tonight. Eva was confused by his words, but she couldn’t question him further because Hodge came in with her tisane for soreness. They didn’t exchange any words other than curt greetings, but one could slice through the tension in the room. Raphael dissolved away shortly after that.

Eva waited for nightfall desperately. She’d asked Izzy if Raphael had offered any explanation as to how he planned to walk on hallowed ground without twisting in pain, but the girl merely shrugged her shoulders. 

“He probably hired a warlock to put a spell on him,” Izzy suggested. “I’m sure those exist.”

It was night outside her window and Eva was entertaining herself with a novel when Izzy’s firm knock echoed into her bedroom before the door opened. Raphael walked inside dressed in a sharp black suit and royal blue shirt with the first few buttons undone to reveal his collarbones. His right arm was oddly curled up against his chest as if he had it in a sling. 

“I’ll keep watch out here in the hallway with Church,” Izzy grinned mischievously as she slowly inched the door closed. “Have fun, and try not to make  _ too _ much noise.” 

Eva blushed at Izzy’s insinuation, but Raphael wasn’t paying attention. He crossed the room in a second, sat on the edge of her bed, and kissed her sweetly. 

“ _ Mi ángelito, _ ” he murmured against her lips. “How are you feeling?”

“Better than this morning,” she reached out to pat his oddly bent arm. “What’s this?”

Raphael reached into his jacket to reveal a large stainless steel thermos. “They said liquid-based diet, so some horchata won’t kill you.”

“You’re so sweet when you want to be,” she eagerly took the cold thermos in her hands and opened it before tipping it over her lips. The delicious icy drink made her shiver pleasantly as it cascading down her throat and settled in her stomach. “Now, please address the elephant in the room, Raphael. I know you’re avoiding it.”

He rolled his shoulders and a strange mix of confusion and fear pulsed around him. Eva frowned sadly, “Did you hire a warlock? How much did that cost you?”

“I didn’t hire anyone,” he shook his head. “After I left the Institute, the Silent Brothers that healed you came to me and told me that  _ what once hurt me will hurt me no longer _ .”

“So you’re not under a spell?” 

“I went to a church I used to go to when I was a kid and I walked in there and...I  _ looked _ into Christ’s eyes, Eva,” his eyes were glossed over, like he couldn’t believe the words he was speaking. “I dunked my head in holy water and drank it and nothing happened to me.”

“But how?”

“I don’t know,” Raphael looked down. His hand was nervously playing with the edges of the blanket draped over her legs. “After I left the church, I went to the penthouse at the Four Seasons and I...” he choked. “I watched the sunrise.”

Eva clapped her hand over her mouth. She didn’t know if this was a good thing, or a bad thing, if she should congratulate him or be frightened for him. This wasn’t normal, but not an entirely terrible thing either. She found her voice, “The Silent Brothers must know why you can suddenly walk in the sun and over hallowed ground.”

“They didn’t tell me why, and I don’t think they’ll be forthcoming if I march into the Silent City and ask,” he rolled his eyes. “The Downworld calls vampires that can walk in the sun  _ Daylighters _ , but they’re extremely rare—even the oldest vampires in my clan have never met one, and I’ve never heard of Daylighters having the ability to drink holy water.”

There was more to this, Eva knew. The guilt floating around him was tangible and Eva latched onto it. “What’s wrong, Rapha? What else do you know?”

His embarrassment was clear in his expression, and if he weren’t a vampire, his cheeks would be a blushed pink. Eva eased him, “I know you drank from me. Izzy told me.”

He was still avoiding her eyes. “I think drinking your Shadowhunter blood had something to do with why I’m like this now.”

“Shadowhunter blood creates Daylighters? That’s impossible! I’m sure there’s other vampires out there that have fed from Shadowhunters.”

“Vampires normally avoid anything that will kill them; unless you tell us that we can go into the sun and prove that we won’t die, we won’t attempt it,” he frowned in thought. “God knows if there’s more Daylighters out there but they just don’t know it.”

Eva looked into his eyes, realizing the predicament he was in. She could sense emotions easily, but there was something about Raphael’s soft brown eyes that she could read like a children’s book. He sighed softly as he added, “I can’t tell anyone, and you and Isabelle have to swear not to tell anyone either. If word gets out that Shadowhunter blood is the key to making Daylighters —whether that’s true or not—it’ll be chaos,” he shook his head. “I can’t allow that to happen.”

“I’m sorry, Rapha,” she touched his cheek, his skin cold and smooth. He raised his hand to cover her own and pulled it over his lips to kiss her palm. 

“I’ll never drink from you again, Eva,” he murmured against her skin. “I know what you’re going to say:  _ I saved your life _ —but it doesn’t make me feel any better that I couldn’t control myself and still drank more than I should’ve. I’m the one that needs to apologize.”

“You can drink from me whenever you need to, you idiot,” she giggled. “I will never refuse you.”

“And I will never ask.”

Eva sighed, the determination in his voice telling her there was no changing his mind on this subject. Nevertheless, it won’t stop her from teasing him. “Was it  _ that  _ good?”

She was surprised to see him hesitate, his shoulders stiffening as a telltale sign of his discomfort. He licked his lips absentmindedly, almost as if he was recalling the taste. “It was the most delicious blood I’ve ever had in my life.”

Eva was oddly flattered and it only made her smirk wider. “Who’s the subjugate now?”

“ _ Cuidadito, mi cielo, _ ” he gave her a playfully pointed look. Eva laughed and leaned forward slightly and he met her halfway, brushing his lips on hers. Before he could steal a kiss, she spoke. 

“When I recover completely,” she whispered. “We’re going to Rockaway Beach.”

“Oh! Do you need help with that?” 

Izzy’s voice was dramatically loud in the hallway outside Eva’s door and the voice that followed afterwards made their stomachs drop in fear.

“I can handle it. Just hold open her door for me, and make sure she’s decent.” 

If it wasn’t Hodge saying that, Izzy would have surely made a crude joke. The alarm in Raphael’s face was frightening; it was rare to see him panicky like this. Eva pushed him by the shoulders and he took the hint. He disappeared under her bed just as Izzy swung open her door and peeked inside. Seeing only Eva was in the room, she held the door open for Hodge to step through with a tray holding a bowl of creamy broccoli soup and a steaming mug of calming tisane. 

As he set it down on the nightstand, Izzy widened her eyes at Eva, silently asking where Raphael was. When Eva quickly gestured at her bed with her finger, Izzy bit her lip hard, no doubt trying to resist the urge to laugh.

“What is this?” Hodge was holding the thermos in his hand. He opened it and sniffed its contents. “Cinnamon?”

“It’s horchata,” Eva replied quickly. “Raphael came by and gave it to Izzy so I could have it.”

“You shouldn’t be drinking this,” he scolded gently. “You need to build up your strength and this is pure sugar.”

“But it’s good!”

“You can drink a bit of it  _ after  _ you eat.” Hodge turned on his heel and went for the door, the thermos under his arm. “Isabelle, make sure she eats everything.”

“Will do, boss,” she saluted him playfully and when the door closed behind him, Izzy finally let out the laugh she’d been holding back. When Raphael crawled out from underneath the bed, she only laughed harder. She was so contagious, Eva also found herself laughing at her boyfriend’s expense.

He was obviously not amused as he smoothed down his suit with his hands. “I hate this place.”


	10. Rockaway Beach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Be careful, because that guy next to you on the beach... might just be a vampire!

Slowly, Eva began regaining her strength. Her muscles no longer strained when she moved for simple tasks and she was allowed to eat solid foods soon after. Raphael would visit her via projections, having sworn off entering the Institute after sinking as low as hiding under Eva’s bed to avoid Hodge Starkweather’s wrath. When he wanted to see her in person, he would call ahead and would stand in the courtyard of the Institute in the evenings and Eva would walk out to see him. Hodge would stand just inside the building, watching their exchange from the open doors.

“I assure you I take no pleasure in having bitten Eva,” Raphael blurted out one day, annoyed that Hodge was glaring down at him from the foyer of the Institute. Eva was shocked he did so. “I’ve never desired to feed from her, and I certainly don’t now.”

That wasn’t exactly true; just thinking about the taste of her blood drove him insane. But the  _ thought  _ of sinking his fangs into her flawless skin for such a selfish desire revolted him, even if she was willing. 

“I know,” Hodge nodded, pushing up his glasses for emphasis. “If it wasn’t for you, she might’ve bled out and for that I’m grateful.”

Raphael approached the doorframe of the Institute. It no longer hurt him to step through, but he couldn’t allow Hodge to know his secret. Raphael lowered his head in silent respect. “Know that I would do anything to protect her.”

“He’s right! I’m the Downworld’s version of Helen of Troy,” Eva grinned proudly as she hugged Raphael’s arm. “Touch me and it’s war with the New York vampire clan.”

“You mean there’s vampires in the Downworld that want to hurt you?” Hodge looked furious. Eva immediately regretted her words and Raphael glared at her for it. Hodge continued frantically, “What if a rival clan wants to kidnap you and hold you for ransom?”

“Don’t insult the Night Children, Starkweather,” Raphael frowned. “We aren’t so juvenile; that’s something werewolves would do.”

“And who would have more motive to blackmail the Night Children than them?”

“Rapha, I think you should go,” Eva smoothed down the exchange, a playful smile on her face. She tiptoed and pecked his lips sweetly before pushing him back with gentle hands. “Unless you want a chakram slicing off your head.” 

“ _ Dios mio _ ,” he rolled his eyes. “ _ En qué me he metido? _ ”

After a week, Eva was finally feeling like her usual self and had even begun training in the early mornings with Jace, Alec, and Izzy like she always did. When she texted Raphael the news, his response was immediate.

_ Grand Central Station. 10 A.M. Friday. Bring a towel. _

Izzy was more excited for this beach date than she was—she insisted they go shopping for swimsuits in boutiques downtown. Eva was just thrilled to see Raphael walking in the sun.

“This will be your chance to give him a little taste,” Izzy shuffled through endless rows of bikini sets in the rack. “You need something that’ll flatter your body and get his imagination going.”

“Why can’t I just have a normal date without going _ that _ route?” Eva laughed. “Isn’t it more interesting that I’m going to the beach with a vampire?”

The mundanes that stood nearby eyed her like she was crazy but averted their gaze quickly. Izzy and Eva paid them no mind and continued to search through the swimsuits. 

“Ah! Perfect!” Izzy pulled a two-piece string bikini set from one of the racks. “Halter top and the yellow and orange goes great with your skin. Get this one!”

That Friday morning after training, she showered and twisted her curly hair into a flattering messy bun. She put on her new bikini—which she had to admit really did flatter her body and skin tone—and over it wore an orange flower-print sundress. After putting on a pair of brown strap sandals, she stuffed a towel into her tote bag along with a bottle of sunscreen and her wallet and phone. She glamoured her chakrams to wear as two silver anklets and Izzy even insisted she buy a wide-brimmed sun hat and Audrey Hepburn sunglasses. 

To avoid prying questions from Hodge and the boys, Izzy tagged along under the guise of going to that new indoor pool in Midtown that you let you swim with mermaids. Izzy was actually going to said pool to scout the handsome Seelie knights that gathered there sometimes. She wished her luck and let Eva walk into the bustling Grand Central Station. She stood near the iconic information booth with the glowing clock on top telling her it was almost ten A.M.

“Eva.”

She hadn’t given much thought to what Raphael would be wearing on this date to Rockaway Beach. She’s always seen him in sharp tailored suits or in expensive jeans and leather jackets that she never considered how ridiculous he would look with what he was wearing now. Eva burst into hysterical laughter and he was not at all amused, but not surprised either.

“Let it all out,” he spat. He was wearing a New York Mets ball cap, Top Gun aviator sunglasses, a white Hawaiian shirt, bright red swim trunks, and flip flops. He carried a simple black backpack over his shoulders. “I’ll wait.”

Eva couldn’t look at him for too long without laughing. If this wasn’t New York City, everyone would’ve stopped to stare at her incredulously. “No one would respect you if they saw you in flip flops!” 

“Which is exactly the point,” he scoffed bitterly. “I went to Target and bought everything I’d hate to wear, which just so happens to serve as a disguise too.”

“Yeah, no one in their right mind would think the guy in the Mets cap and shorts is  _ you _ ,” her laughter was finally dying down. She was breathless. “Other than that, you look great!”

It took around fifty minutes to get to Rockaway and by the time they walked over the hot sand and found a spot to lay down their towels and open their small umbrella, the sun was blazing. Autumn was around the corner, but only nights were breezy. Days were still scorching hot.

“It’s good to know being undead is useful for something,” he joked dryly as Eva clung to his arm. Despite the heat, his skin was cold, and it was cooling her down significantly as Raphael eyed the bottle of sunscreen. “Do you think this is necessary?”

“It might be,” she shrugged. “I normally don’t burn, but the sun is looking pretty vicious today.”

Eva had never seen him shirtless before. He was naturally lean and his skin flawless and pale with a bit of dark hair scattered over his chest. She helped him spread sunscreen over his broad shoulders and back, and he did the same for her. She giggled when she felt his fingers tracing the runes on her back that still had yet to disappear from this morning. 

“For today, Rapha,” she teased. “I want to get in the water.”

He merely grumbled under his breath, probably annoyed he got caught gawking. Izzy was right: this bikini was making his imagination run wild. Eva smiled, gesturing towards the crashing waves with a tilt of her head, “Was it like you remembered it?”

His demeanor changed immediately; his expression relaxed and a genuine smile spread over his face. His voice, usually stern and sarcastic, was soft and cheerful. “Yes, it is.”

“All thanks to me,” she jumped off her towel and dashed for the crashing waves. As a Shadowhunter, she was fast on her own right, but nothing could outrun his vampire speed. She laughed in surprise when he swept her off her feet like a feather and threw her over his shoulder. She pounded against his back playfully. “Let me go!”

“If you say so,” he chuckled. Knee-deep in the water, he tossed her and she submerged like a rock against the rolling ocean. The water was warm with the summer sun and salty as she rose up and ran her hands over her face. He looked immensely proud of himself—that is, until she used her grappling skills to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him down into the water with her. She grinned widely, finding his dark hair splattered over his eyes endearing. When he slicked it back with his hands, she couldn’t help but embrace him and bring him in for a kiss. 

He’s held her close before when they lose themselves in heated kisses, but they’ve always been fully clothed. Feeling his bare skin against hers was making her heart knock against her ribcage, especially when his fingertips began tracing the dip of her spine and waist. She shivered under his touch, and feeling her do so made him pull away from her. He asked softly, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she giggled. “I just realized something.”

“Do I want to know?”

“It pertains to you.”

“Oh really?” he looked genuinely curious with a quirk of his thin brows. Under moonlight, his eyes were like smooth dark chocolate, but in broad daylight, they looked like glowing honeycombs. His fingers were laced together against the small of her back, holding her against him so closely, she couldn’t resist wrapping her legs around his waist under the water. She could tell it made him feel some sort of way; his eyebrows knitted together, and his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat with a thick gulp. “What is it?”

“I love you.” It just fell from her lips like the most natural thing one could say. It felt right to tell him so boldly. “I love you so much, Rapha.”

“That’s it?” he chuckled. “I thought it was something important.”

Perhaps it was because she was so close to him and touching him; the emotion that burst from him drew the air right out of her lungs. It burrowed into her skin, embracing every inch of her soul like a warm blanket. It was so genuine, so strong, so loving, it made her eyes sting with tears. Her vision blurred and she couldn’t suppress the sob that left her throat. 

The beautiful feeling radiating from him was replaced with an alarming sense of panic. He looked horrified he drew tears from her; tears he was interpreting as hurt rather than utter happiness. “ _ Mi ángelito, _ I was joking. I didn’t mean that—” 

“I know!” she cut him off, laughing through her tears. He wasn’t convinced and stared at her incredulously with wide eyes. “I felt...it’s hard to explain...”

“It’s that weird thing you do,” he let out a soft sigh of relief. “When you just _ feel  _ what others are feeling.”

“Yes,” she nodded and kissed him. “I didn’t know you felt that way about me.”

“I have a reputation to maintain,” he smiled. She could see the glimpse of his fangs when he did so. “I can’t go around professing my love for you; who will take me serious?”

“If you do it in flip flops, you won’t be able to show your face in New York ever again!”


	11. Lingerie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eva is dreadful at the art of seduction.

“Hey, Iz?”

Izzy was tossing dresses and sparkling mini skirts out of her closet to replace with—in Eva’s humble opinion—dresses and mini skirts that looked exactly the same. According to her  _ parabatai _ , they were out of fashion and she wouldn’t be caught dead wearing them despite having worn them two weeks ago.

Izzy hummed, eyeing a backless silver dress. “What’s up?”

“Can you give me some advice?”

“On what?”

When Eva remained silent, the dress went flying out of Izzy’s hand and onto the enormous unwanted pile. Izzy turned around on her heels, her sharp eyes accentuated with perfect winged eyeliner studying her face. It only embarrassed Eva further and she sunk into the armchair, her arms hugging her midsection tighter in an attempt to disappear from Izzy’s intense stare.

“Oh!” she let out with a knowing grin. “You want to get Raphael under the sheets, don’t you?”

Eva could feel the wickedness brewing in Izzy like a gurgling cauldron. It made her cheeks flush and her muscles tense in nervousness. Feeling her voice would fail her, she only nodded slowly. Izzy threw her head back to laugh, obviously amused by her discomfort but also very excited Eva wanted to be naughty in that way for once. Izzy always thought Eva was a bit of a prude, but she insisted it would all change when she’d meet her Prince Charming—or her Count Dracula, in this case.

“Okay, I’m going to be honest,” Izzy began with a flip of her hair. “Vampires are my least favorite lovers: they’re cold— _ literally _ cold—and they don’t breathe, which is really weird when you get into it, and since your blood pressure is rising, their fangs are always out which scares the hell out of me.”

Eva didn’t mind that Raphael’s skin was cold, nor did she mind that he didn’t breathe, and his fangs sometimes slip out when he’s caught off guard which he’s admitted—after a bit of prying and teasing—that it occurs because of how good she smells. Sometimes Eva wondered how Izzy could have flings and one-night stands and brush it off afterwards like lint off her sleeve. Just thinking about being completely naked in front of Raphael who she’s been dating for months now was making her a nervous wreck. Isabelle has always been more confident than her and much more in tune with the power behind her feminine beauty, and Eva has always loved her for it, but it’s just not in Eva’s nature to emulate her  _ parabatai _ . Eva is a slow-burner, while Izzy is an exploding star. 

“So first rule, you have to wear sexy underwear—you have some, right?”

“I have matching sets, if that’s what you mean.”

That wasn’t what Izzy wanted to hear. “When are you seeing him again?”

Today was a Thursday, so from eight to ten, he would be watching his telenovelas in the Four Seasons penthouse. Izzy knew of these so-called _ dates _ and was shocked to hear they never got past a make-out or two in that enormous penthouse. The most skin they’ve seen on each other was when they went to Rockaway Beach in the summer—it was nearly October and the start of sweater weather, and Eva has been longing to feel the cool touch of his skin again. 

“I can see him today, if I want to,” Eva said, avoiding Izzy’s wide eyes. 

“Okay, do you have anything lace?”

“I have lace panties, but no lace bras.”

“You’re a lost case, Eva,” she sighed heavily. “But never fear, because thankfully, you’ve got me.”

Eva wasn’t so sure she’d be able to rock babydoll lingerie the same way Izzy does, but she insisted it would look great on her. They were almost the same size and while Eva was a bit shorter than Izzy, the worst thing that could happen was that the sheer dress would flow a little lower over her thighs. Izzy rummaged through Eva’s underwear drawer, praising the Angel that the one lacey pair of panties Eva had went perfectly with the babydoll. 

“Just don’t wear a bra,” Izzy said when Eva asked about wearing a matching set. “It’ll be coming off anyway—it’s one less thing to worry about.”

She texted Raphael to pick her up for tonight. Getting a confirmation reply from him—a simple  _ okay _ —she began to fold the lingerie into her purse carefully. Just thinking about what she was planning to do was having her heart pound in her chest. 

He arrived at seven on the dot and immediately sensed her elevated pulse. “You okay?”

“Fine,” she nodded quickly. “Let’s go.”

When they arrived at their suite, Raphael was quick to make himself comfortable.

“Tonight I find out if she’s pregnant or not,” Raphael settled himself on the bed. The telenovelas never had any English subtitles, so he always tried to summarize the episodes as best he could for her. She didn’t really care much for the exaggerated theatrics of his telenovelas, but he was so invested in the many plots and characters that it always amused her to listen to his retelling of the scandalous events. “If you ask me, she’s probably pregnant but it’s not Armando’s. She’s been sleeping around with Miguel behind his back.”

It was a miracle they watched so many steamy sex scenes in these telenovelas and never once tried to imitate them. Eva frighteningly thought Raphael maybe didn’t find her sexy like those beautiful actresses, or maybe he just wasn’t interested in her like that. She begrudgingly thought her inner turmoil would be great material for her own Mexican telenovela.

He flipped through the many channels on the plasma TV as Eva curled up on his side comfortably. She thought about the lingerie in her purse. How was she going to slip into it without him noticing? She was going through different scenarios in her head when Raphael suddenly let out a string of curses in Spanish.

“ _ Tu puta madre! _ ” he groaned angrily. “ _ Cabrones! _ ”

Eva eyed the television screen to see a game of soccer being narrated in rapid Spanish. Eva was utterly confused, “What’s going on?”

“There’s no novela tonight!” he scoffed bitterly. “There’s a stupid soccer game on—this is why I hate sports! They don’t even warn us!” 

Eva was starting to think Izzy had magical powers that she hasn’t told her about. 

“I guess we could go grab some food, or a coffee,” he suggested, turning off the TV with an aggressive push of the button. “Are you hungry?”

“Not really,” Eva said. “Can’t we just stay in? I’m sure there’s a movie we could watch.”

Raphael gave the suggestion a brief thought before nodding. “Good idea.”

Back to square one, she thought bitterly. Now they were laying in bed watching an action movie he found while flipping through the channels and the more she got comfortable curled up on his side, the more her confidence dwindled. If she wanted to do this, she needed to put her foot down and do it. Raphael was obviously not going to make any moves—which was either a good thing or a bad thing according to Isabelle. A good thing because he respected her, but also a bad thing because it could mean he wasn’t interested.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” Eva said breathlessly and slipped away from him. He only gave her a brief nod, too engrossed in the movie to pay attention as she hurried into the enormous marble bathroom with a huge sonic shower and a hot tub. Eva leaned over the marble sink and eyed herself in the mirror, her deep breath fogging the mirror. What if he rejected her advances? She was flattered Izzy had so much confidence in her, but Eva thought it was a bit reckless to send her off on this mission without preparing her for the chance he might refuse her. How awkward! 

And just when she thought things couldn’t get worse, she heard Raphael knock on the door twice. “Eva?”

“I’m fine!” she called out.

“I’m sure you are. Open the door.”

Confused, Eva opened the door to see him standing there with his arms crossed over his crisp button-up white shirt tucked into his expensive dress pants. He unwinded his arms to hold out her phone. Right then and there, she wanted to punch herself in the throat. How was she going to change into the lingerie if she left her purse outside?

“Izzy sent you a message,” he told her. His tone was strange; a mix of amusement and flattery. When she took the phone from him, her stomach dropped all the way down to the subway system below the streets of Manhattan.

_ I put some of that tasteless vodka into Hodge’s Earl Grey and he’s out like a light in the library. I don’t want to see you here at midnight, Cinderella! _

“Um...” Eva looked up at him as he raised his eyebrows, curious to see what dumb explanation she came up with. It was dumb indeed. “I don’t know why she would say that.”

“Just so you know, I wasn’t planning on opening the message.” Raphael’s lips were curled in a knowing smirk. He leaned against the doorframe of the bathroom casually. “I heard your phone and when I opened your purse to fetch it for you, I found the most curious little thing in there.”

Eva’s cheeks flared with heat. He chuckled, “You want to tell me what’s going on?”

“It’s a little obvious, don’t you think?” she spat; her embarrassment was making her snappy and self-conscious. At least he didn’t look disgusted. In fact, he looked like he was enjoying how terribly her plan to seduce him was going. She hated that he was so much older and experienced than her—his young face often made her forget he was older than her, Jace, Alec, and Izzy put together. 

The sudden thought of Izzy made her boil. This was all her fault! Sending that message! Then again, Eva should’ve taken her purse inside the bathroom and maybe none of this would be happening. 

“You need to relax,  _ mi cielo _ ,” he said. “Do you really think I didn’t know something was up? Granted, I didn’t think it was  _ that _ , but I noticed you were nervous and your pulse was elevated. Now it all makes perfect sense.”

“You probably think I’m an idiot.” Her embarrassment was crawling over her skin like millions of ants.

“Not just an idiot, but a horny one at that; it’s a good duo.”

“Are you done making fun of me?”

“You laugh at me all the time; let me have some fun now that I have the upper hand.”

Eva couldn’t help but pout, which made him laugh. He took her chin in his fingers and turned her head to meet his eyes. “Is this something you want, or is this someone else’s idea?”

“Izzy helped, but it was my idea,” she said softly. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Clearly,” he teased again. When she glared at him, he quickly added, “Okay, I won’t make fun of you anymore—at least not for now.”

“That’s very reassuring.”

“I don’t understand why you would go through all this trouble,” he stepped back from her to point at her purse laying on the nightstand. “You know how I am; you could’ve just told me what you wanted.”

“I didn’t know that’s how this worked,” she admitted. “I didn’t even know if you wanted to take the next step. You’ve never done anything to make me think you wanted to.”

“I’ve never been really interested in sex,” he said casually. “I feel that it’s lost its meaning over time—people emphasize the physical aspect more than the emotional connection. I wanted to have something real with you, something that wasn’t weighed on how well we satisfied each other in bed.”

Eva blushed at his words and it only served to amuse him even more. He leaned down so he could be eye level with her. “I told you once before: we vampires are very patient. If you want to have sex, I’ll be more than happy to make love to you, and if you don’t want to, I’m fine with that too. We can finish the movie and I’ll take you back—”

“Screw the movie,” Eva blurted out. “I want you.”


	12. With All My Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It goes without saying.

“Lights on, or off?” 

Raphael had his hand over the light switch, meeting her eyes gently from where she sat on the edge of the bed. Eva shrugged, “Which do you prefer?”

“I’ll see you clearly regardless. It’s your preference.”

“Turn them off,” she nodded towards the large window overlooking the illuminated city of New York. “There’s enough light coming from the window.”

Raphael switched the lights off, and the moment the room fell into a romantic dimness, Eva felt her heart jump into her throat. The city glow outlined Raphael like a stunning marble statue, his eyes dark and piercing as he crossed the room. His smirk looked wider in the shadows. “I felt your pulse spike from here.”

Eva’s shoulders tensed and she avoided his eyes. She didn’t notice he was standing in front of her until she felt his cold hand take hers. He gently pulled her up to her feet, and with his free hand, took her chin to pull her gaze to his. “I won’t be angry if you want to stop; I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“I’m not uncomfortable,” she shook her head. “I’m just nervous.”

“It may be hard to believe, but so am I.” He brought her hand to press against his silent chest. “You don’t feel it?”

Under all the adoration and love she felt floating around him, there was a flicker of uneasiness. She smiled at him. “I have to focus a little harder to feel it.”

“I’m good at hiding it,” he pressed his forehead against hers. “It’s a bad habit; I shouldn’t hide myself from you.”

“It’s not like you can,” she teased with a laugh. He hummed in response and kissed her. It was gentle and almost shy, like he didn’t want to scare her, or pressure her. Eva had already decided she wanted this with all her heart and brought him closer with her arms, kissing him harder to let him know. He took the hint fairly quickly and his hands slipped under her sweater to smooth over her bare skin. His hands were cold and she jumped, their kiss parting momentarily as they laughed breathlessly.

Eva pulled at his crisp white shirt, untucking it, and then began to unbutton it from the bottom up. Her hands were trembling from the thrill of his fingers tracing each bump of her spine, each swirl of her scars left behind by runes. His thumb traced the crater in her abdomen, taking in the jagged edges of her skin and the soft texture of the center. 

Eva miraculously finished unbuttoning his shirt, and after he removed his golden chain cufflinks and placed them on the nightstand near her purse, he drew his arms behind him to pull his shirt off. Her hands immediately ran over his chest, taking in every inch of it, smiling at him as she felt his soft chest hair tickle her palms. He always wore a thin gold chain that once held a cross; he’d taken it off since it burned his skin at the touch. He had a cross-shaped scar just between his collarbones to prove his futile attempts to wear it. Eva supposed he didn’t wear it now so others wouldn’t be suspicious of his immunity to holy artifacts.

Her knitted sweater came off next. She couldn’t help but giggle when he kissed down her neck and shoulder, finding his lips ticklish, but more so because his hands were fumbling with the clasp of her bra. Her heart skipped a beat when she felt the garment loosen around her chest and slide off and onto the floor. She knew he could feel her frantic pulse along her neck but all he did was plant a soft kiss on her shoulder and purposefully sigh against her skin to make her jump. “You’re beautiful, Eva.  _ Una belleza. _ ”

“You’re just saying that,” she mumbled. His hands were all over her chest, touching her in ways he knew were going to make her whimper. He smirked against her lips.

“I’m very honest,” he said. “When I see something I don’t like, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

Perhaps it was something innate in vampires that made them look glorious in darkness. Some people may describe it as dangerous, or creepy, or frightening. Eva found Raphael to be beautiful with his flawless skin and darkened eyes and sharp jaw. His hair, normally styled perfectly, was messy and beginning to curl over his neck and temples. Despite the fire eating away at her just below her skin, Raphael remained exceptionally cool to the touch. Where her chest was rising and falling rapidly with frantic breaths from every intimate touch of his fingers and tongue, his chest didn’t move. She was panting against his cheek and lips, but she never felt his own breath mix with hers. It was so strange, but it made her heart flutter. She couldn’t explain it even if she tried.

He was so gentle. He eased her through every touch and kiss, always making sure she was comfortable and happy. She shivered when he kissed over the healed puncture wounds where he’d bitten her. Almost as if her body remembered the surge of energy his bite had given her, she arched against him, pressing their naked bodies together deliciously. She was proud that she drew a soft sigh from him. 

“ _ Te quiero con la vida, mi ángel. _ ” 

Spanish was falling from his lips like prayers. She was too lost in her pleasure to register his sweet words, only noting his whispers were soft and breathless. Eva dug her fingernails into his shoulders, feeling his muscles clench with his every movement. He grunted at the feeling despite the scratches healing instantaneously.

“ _ Con todo mi corazón _ .” 

“Rapha,” she whimpered helplessly, clinging to him. It was all she could do to remain grounded in reality and not float aimlessly in her whirlwind of pleasure. “What—”

“ _ Nada, mi cielo. _ ” He rolled his hips in such a way that made fireworks explode in her eyes. “It’s nothing.”

He couldn’t hide the emotion he was projecting unknowingly. Eva didn’t understand his words, but his emotions spoke for him. Like that summer day in Rockaway Beach, his enveloping love brought tears to her eyes. She swallowed back a sob by bringing him in for a deep kiss, a kiss she parted to say, “I love you too. With all my heart.”

Eva’s body was humming and nothing could wipe the goofy grin off her face. It was endearing to see Raphael look so content and relaxed as he lay there on his side next to her. His chocolate brown eyes flickered over the scars and fresh runes he was tracing with his fingertips. He was oddly obsessed with doing so, to the point where he asked if she could lay on her belly so he could follow the black swirls left behind from a recent Accuracy rune that ended over her back.

“Keep doing that and I’ll fall asleep,” she mumbled, her eyes fluttering. He didn’t respond, too engrossed in what he was doing. When she pressed a hand against his chest, it seemed to land him back in reality. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m bad at this,” he admitted. “Pillow talk. I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. You just look very distracted.” 

“You’re naked, you smell delicious, and you’re looking at me with that stupid grin on your face and those googly eyes,” he said softly. “You should be offended if I  _ wasn’t _ distracted.” 

“I think your pillow talk skills are exceptional.” She moved close enough to press their bodies together under the soft comforter. She threw a leg over him and curled up against his chest in a close embrace. “You underestimate yourself.”

If he responded, she never heard it. She fell asleep in his arms, in the coolness of his embrace and the warmth of the comforter—the perfect balance. When she woke up, the yellow glow of New York City’s nightlights was still illuminating the luxurious hotel room. She didn’t wake up on her own—she would’ve slept until sunrise if Raphael hadn’t been pressing kisses on her face.

“May I ask why I’m being woken up from the best sleep of my life?” she asked, trying to push him away playfully. It didn’t work, and he only brought her closer.

“I’m a Daylighter, but unfortunately, my motorcycle only runs in darkness,” he began. The slur in his words told her he’d also woken up not too long ago. “So unless you want to embrace New York City’s lovely rush hour, I suggest we get dressed.”

Eva hummed. “Same time tomorrow, then?” 

“I’ll be watching my telenovelas tomorrow at that hour,” he teased. The spark in his eyes was predatory and mischievous. They gave him such an uncharacteristically playful and laidback look, and Eva loved it. It oddly suited him better than the constantly-irritated-with-everything demeanor he enjoyed to flaunt. Eva laughed when he pushed her onto her back and caged her in his arms. “But I think I can make some time for you right now.”

There was almost an hour left until sunrise when he dropped her off at the Institute. They always kissed each other goodbye, but now, there was a different familiarity between them. The way he pulled her close and held her against him was like puzzle pieces that knew the intricacies of the other in order to fit perfectly. It made her melt against him.

In the time it took her to shower and throw on a T-shirt and jeans with her favorite sneakers, it was early morning. Eva walked the twisting hallways of the Institute and arrived at the kitchens where the inhabitants were all gathered. Maryse was just heading out as Eva was coming in; the woman greeted her kindly and disappeared through the door, steaming coffee mug in hand. Jace was buffing his nails with the tablecloth, Alec still looked half-asleep, and Izzy was pouring maple syrup over burnt pancakes. Hodge, who normally looked so sharp, was hunched over the kitchen counter, rubbing his temples with his forefingers. He jumped when the toaster beeped and two slices of bread popped out of it.

“I swear I don’t remember drinking last night,” he grumbled.

“That’s a hangover, if I’ve ever seen one,” Jace said. He met Eva’s eyes as she walked towards the table. “Doesn’t that look like typical Hangover Hodge?”

Eva bit her lip. She felt guilty Hodge had to suffer through a splitting headache just so she could spend the night with Raphael doing unspeakable things. How much of that vodka did Izzy even use? Hodge looked dreadful!

Izzy didn’t seem concerned about Hangover Hodge, though. Her expressive dark eyes widened, following Eva like lasers as she sat down. All Eva had to do was smile to have Izzy’s jaw drop with an enormous silent gasp and hold back a cry of joy. 

“What’s the matter with you two?” Alec asked, looking between his sister and her  _ parabatai _ . 

“Isn’t it obvious?” Jace raised a knowing eyebrow. “Hangover Hodge, Eva looking like the cat that eat the canary—or the bat, I should say—Izzy doing her little victory dance—”

“I don’t want to hear about this!” Alec blushed bright red. “I’m eating!”

“Can you lower your voices, please?” Hodge pleaded from the kitchen counter. He was rummaging around the cutlery drawer for a butter knife. “It’s too early to be yelling.”

“Yeah, Jace, lower your voice,” Eva scoffed, sticking her tongue out at him like sisters do. “No one thinks you’re clever or funny.”

Jace smirked deviously. “At least we won’t have to worry about little vamps running around.”

“Who left what running?” Hodge finally found the butter knife and settled down in an empty chair. His grey-streaked black hair was messy on his head and his glasses sat askew on his nose. Eva swore his shirt was buttoned incorrectly. “Was it the stove? It wasn’t me.”

“We’re eating breakfast in my room,” Izzy picked up her plate of pancakes along with the bottle of maple syrup. “Make yourself something quick. I want to know  _ everything _ .”

Izzy dashed out of the kitchen and Alec, embarrassed, left right at her heels. Jace threw her a jab about naked vampires before he narrowly dodged a spoon tossed his way when he ducked out of the kitchen. Eva turned to Hodge, his head in his hands after finding the task of spreading jam over his toast too strenuous, or perhaps the smell of it nauseated him.

“I’ll make you some tisane,” Eva stood and rubbed his back in affection. She could feel the scar from his shoulder injury over his tweed suit. “You want it lemon flavored, or with mint?”

“Lemon, please,” he mumbled, not raising his head to look at her.

Eva wasn’t as good at making tisanes as he was, but after so many years under his wing, she could brew them decently and make them taste almost as good as the ones he made. She stirred the lemon juice into the mug, the citrus and herbal smell making her sigh pleasantly. She tapped the spoon against the edge of the mug and then set it down in front of him. Since he wasn’t going to eat the toast, she decided that would be her breakfast, and tucked the jar of jam under her arm along with a juice box from the fridge. “Drink all of it, Hodge. It’ll make you feel better.”

“Thank you, Mari—” he cut himself off abruptly. Eva was shocked to see he sobered up so quickly, his skin went deathly pale. Before Eva could even form words to speak, he waved his hand in the air dismissively, “I’m speaking nonsense; I’m never drinking alcohol again...”


	13. Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's in a name?

After breaking the ice and melting away the last remaining chunks of shyness and awkwardness, they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Every little thing, whether it was a fleeting touch or an unrestrained kiss, gave them the excuse they desperately needed to pull each other’s clothes off and lose themselves in the throes of passion. Eva was slowly starting to understand why people lose their minds over this, because she was starting to think it was happening to her. His touch was exhilarating; it sent bolts through her body like the adrenaline she feels in a fight. She lived for catching him off guard because it forced him to take deep breaths and sigh against her. In return, he reveled in making her a trembling mess, worshipping her with everything at his disposal. His tongue was especially dangerous, but Eva was a quick learner, and it didn’t take her long to master the skills that drove him crazy.

“You need to learn patience,  _ cielito _ ,” he scolded her lightly. “You move too fast;  _ así no se hace el amor. _ ”

“You enjoy it as much as I do,” Eva raised her head to meet his eyes. She was laying right on top of him, their bodies fitting together perfectly as if they were made for each other. Eva was nimble and light, a product of her Shadowhunter blood and training, but it was impossible to smother him anyway. Raphael loved feeling her weight on him; it allowed him to wrap his arms around her if he wished, or trace the bumps of her spine or the silvery scars on her back, or pinch her butt when she was being annoying.

Like she was now. He smirked when she squealed in surprise. “I hate when you’re right.”

Eva lowered her head back onto his silent, unmoving chest. Her fingertips traced the faint scar of a cross right below his collarbones. He’d opened up to her with snippets of his past, how he was Turned, how he didn’t accept what he was for a long time and a warlock helped him through it, how he tried to be normal, how he had to leave his family and watch them grow old and die from afar. His tone was very collected and his expression even more so, but Eva could feel the grief suffocating his soul, the resentment and bitterness that came after, and then the apathetic acceptance. 

“I’ll have to submit my name to the Clave next month,” Eva said, tracing patterns of runes on his ribcage absentmindedly. “I don’t know if they’ll accept it though.”

“Why wouldn’t they?” 

“I don’t know; the Clave can be unpredictable sometimes.” 

“Don’t tell me it’s Skywalker or some other stupid name from those movies you make me watch.”

“I thought about Greenleaf, like Legolas,” she giggled. “Or Oakenshield, like the dwarf from  _ The Hobbit _ .” 

“All stupid names.”

“Vampires have stupid names too!” she laughed. “Santiago’s one of them!”

Eva laughed when he groped her behind and flipped her underneath him. He anchored her to the mattress with his body, his forearms on either side of her head. His fingers caught one of her curls and twirled it as he stole her breath away with a kiss. “What did you say? I didn’t hear you.”

“I said  _ Santiago _ is a stupid vampire name; I thought I was clear enough,” she taunted playfully. “You should consider changing it to Nosferatu—it has a nice ring to it.”

Raphael mumbled something under his breath before burying his face into her neck, inhaling her scent of coconuts and gardenias and sweet blood. He let some of his weight fall on her, but she didn’t mind and simply wrapped her limbs around him like a sloth on a tree branch. 

“Will you tell me what it is?” he asked. 

“I haven’t even told Izzy, despite her attempts to trick me into telling her,” she ran her fingers through his soft hair, making a sigh escape him. “I think those Faeries she’s dating are rubbing off on her...”

“ _ Dios mio _ , if you haven’t told anyone, it must really be stupid,” he joked. “You’re afraid they’ll try to talk you out of it.”

“Not really. I’ve had it in mind ever since the Clave told me I’d be allowed to choose.”

Eva brushed his dark curls away from his ear and leaned forward, whispering the name into his ear. His chest rumbled with a hum. “I thought it would be worse.”

“You like it?”

“It’s pretentious, but clever.”

“Only you can give a complimentary insult.”

“My very special skill,” he joked dryly. “That, and drinking holy water while sunbathing.”

* * *

February arrived in New York City and Eva always loved the way snow blanketed the courtyard of the Institute and gathered on the windowsills. She loved the crunching sound it made under her boots, and she loved the intense snowball fights she and Izzy always had against Alec and Jace to see which  _ parabatai _ pair was the better shot. Max would join in as well, usually siding with the boys, but would quickly become a turncoat when the girls tipped the scales in their favor. They’d always come in drenched and freezing, and it was up to Hodge to light the fireplace in the library and give them steaming mugs of hot cocoa to warm them up. 

It was Hodge’s birthday on the fifth of February, and they always surprised him with a box of his favorite powdered jelly-filled donuts. They all pitched in and bought him a wooden tea box that was large enough for him to organize all his herbs and spices and homemade tea bags. Jace jokingly managed to get his hands on a bottle of brandy he decorated with a red bow, and while Hodge scolded him lightly for the joke at his expense, he nonetheless laughed.

The snow melted when spring arrived and Eva and Raphael celebrated their one-year anniversary at  _ Doña Flor _ and then had a gelato in Little Italy. Raphael bought her a pair of very expensive boots she’d been looking at during a date night weeks ago, and she got him a leather jacket because he looked so good in them. 

In August, it was Eva’s eighteenth birthday. Hodge baked her a delicious cake with her name written terribly in frosting by Izzy, there were balloons and confetti floating around the kitchen. She was notoriously easy to buy gifts for because she always asked for the same things: boots, sweaters, hair products, and fantasy novels. 

That night, Raphael picked her up for a dinner date at  _ Doña Flor  _ where she ate her favorite tacos al pastor. When she ate her fill and washed it down with horchata, Eva was glad to finally relax in the penthouse of the Four Seasons. Raphael helped her out of her jacket, and before she knew it, they were both naked and tangled beneath silk sheets. 

“That wasn’t your birthday present, just so you know,” he told her lightly. His hand was tracing the dip of her waist before trailing up the rise of her hip bone. Eva’s skin was humming from the afterglow of their love and his featherlight touch was making her eyes heavy with sleep.

Eva watched him swing out of bed and look for his jacket among the many layers of clothing scattered over the floor. The warm glow of the streetlights outside the window paired with the dimness of the bedroom outlined his body, making his skin stand out like polished marble in a fine art museum. When he returned to bed, Eva sat up as he showed her a thin golden chain. Attached to it was a hollowed glass pendant in the shape of an hourglass, the imperfection of its design telling Eva that it was handcrafted. Against the streetlight streaming in from the window, Eva could see a fine grey dust was moving around inside of it.

“It’s dirt from my grave,” he said. He circled it around her throat to clasp it securely. The hourglass situated itself right below her collarbones. “If you ever need me for anything, you break that and I’ll be at your side, wherever you are.”

Eva turned to face him, touching the smooth glass between her thumb and forefinger. It was surprisingly warm, as if it were alive. She parted her lips to thank him, but he silenced her with a quick kiss. 

“Emergencies only,” he told her firmly, though Eva knew he wasn’t scolding her seriously. “If you summon me to help you choose between sweaters at the mall, we’re going to have a serious problem.” 

A few days after her birthday, Eva wrote a formal letter to the Clave using one of Hodge’s fancy fountain pens. She then folded the letter neatly and gave it to Maryse to seal with the Lightwood wax stamp and send it off. The Clave was surprisingly quick with their reply, which made Eva a bit nervous. A decision made quickly was never anything good, but she remained hopeful.

“Hurry! I’m dying to know!” Izzy bounced on her heels. Eva smiled as she saw Alec and Jace’s eyes flicker with curiosity, Max pushed up his glasses as he looked up from his comic book, Hodge sitting at his desk with a mug of Earl Grey and Hugo on the backrest of his chair. 

“Let’s see if they approved it first...” Eva opened the letter, her golden eyes skimming the page rapidly. Finding the inked words she was hoping for, she let out a heavy sigh with a hand over her heart. “It’s approved!”

“Well?” Alec raised his eyebrows. “What’s the name?”

“Starkwood!”

Hodge choked on his tea so abruptly, Hugo cawed and flew away. Everyone else was genuinely shocked with jaws dropped and eyes wide. Eva explained herself, “You’ve all been my family for as long as I can remember; if I was going to pick a name, it was going to be a combination of Starkweather and Lightwood. I didn’t like Lightweather too much, so—”

Izzy brought her in for a hug, cutting her off in the process. She was laughing, “I hate you for  _ almost _ making me cry!”

“Hodge is crying,” Jace pointed out. Everyone looked over at their mentor who had turned away from them on his chair with one hand holding his glasses and the other slapped over his eyes. Eva’s eyes stung as she crossed the room and hugged him, pressing her cheek against the scar on his face and feeling the warmth of his tears.

“C’mon Hodge!” she told him with a laugh. “Don’t cry!”

“I didn’t think…” he replaced his glasses with a deep breath, no doubt trying to swallow back the sobs threatening to leave his throat. “I didn’t think you thought so highly of me.”

“Hodge, I think the world of you!” she smiled. “You’re the dad I never had.”

He blinked, making tears stream down his flushed cheeks like raindrops on glass. Eva embraced him tightly, shocked that he would get so emotional over something so silly. Hodge was always so composed; it was odd to see him break down and cry like this.

“But what about me?” Jace suddenly said. When Eva pulled away from Hodge to look at the blonde boy, he continued, “You didn’t include Wayland in your name! How rude! Life didn’t begin until I walked into this Institute!”


	14. The Circle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clary Fray has entered the chat.

It started as a standard mission. There were reports of an Eidolon demon lurking around the Pandemonium Club, an all-ages nightclub where mundanes and Downworlders mingled. Spotting the demon was easy enough—they hide themselves from mundane eyes well but rarely did a good enough job to hide their true selves from Shadowhunters.

Isabelle immediately volunteered to be the seductive bait in her floor-length white gown she purchased at the mall with Eva not too long ago, and her favorite thigh-high heeled boots. On her throat was her demon-sensing ruby pendant. She disappeared into the dry-ice smoke of the dancefloor like a ghost.

Eva stood with Jace and Alec by the bar, all dressed in standard black gear with thick belts looped around their hips carrying their weapons. Eva’s chakrams clanked together as she leaned against an empty barstool, her eyes flickered about for any additional demons that might be lurking. There were no demons, but there was a vampire sitting at the other end of the counter flirting with a mundane woman. She amusingly recalled how she met Raphael—teasing him at a bar, seeing how far she could poke at him before he left her side. He didn’t, and to this day, she doesn’t know what she did that caught his attention enough to remember her hastily blurted phone number and contact her. Perhaps she should ask him...

“Izzy’s got him,” Alec’s voice brought Eva back to Shadowhunter mode. She watched her  _ parabatai _ weave through the dancers, beckoning the Eidolon with electric blue hair to her, and then disappearing into a storage room. Eva and the boys moved in, brandishing their weapons along the way, and entered the storage room. Isabelle already had the demon caught in her trusty electrum whip, and it stupidly begged for its life. The demon even offered to disclose the whereabouts of Valentine, the notorious Shadowhunter responsible for the Uprising nearly sixteen years ago. He was confirmed to be dead; however, and their patience was running thin. Izzy insisted Jace kill it already so they can finally go home, and it would’ve all been over very efficiently if the redheaded mundane didn’t show up.

She argued with them, thinking they were out to murder a normal club-going boy, not knowing it was a dangerous demon. As usual, Jace said too much, his arrogance and sarcasm dripping out of every word he spoke and let out more and more secrets about the Shadow World. Eva, Alec, and Izzy kept reminding him to be quiet, but it was useless telling Jace to stop. 

They killed the demon easily enough, leaving the mundane girl spooked. If that wasn’t worse, a bouncer with a mundane boy entered the room and were completely ignorant of the Shadowhunters standing in plain sight. The mundane girl was left with no choice but to declare it all a false alarm. Eva didn’t know what occurred after that, whether the girl got kicked out of the club or banned entirely. 

“Mundanes are sometimes born with the Sight,” Hodge explained, setting mugs of hot cocoa down for all of them at the dining table. Their tutor was always buzzing with relief and joy whenever they all returned from demon-hunting unscathed and alive. It was endearing and it made her feel so loved. “It’s rare, but it happens. Some aren’t even aware of it and go on thinking they’re just crazy.”

“What a sad, sad life,” Jace muttered, blowing out the steam from his mug. Eva noted he was uncharacteristically quiet, having little to say except for the occasional grunt or a sarcastic observation here and there.

“Well, she’ll definitely think she’s crazy now,” Izzy said.

“I suggest you all stay away from her,” Hodge warned firmly. “We don’t know who she is, or what she is. Leave her be.”

“She’s a mundane with the Sight,” Eva said. “I doubt she’s dangerous.”

“You don’t know that,” Hodge eyed her pointedly. “If she is a mundane blessed with the Sight, she will find her own way to us if she needs to. Otherwise, stay away from her.”

Hodge’s words seemed to have bounced off Jace’s head as if they’d been spoken in some obscure language. The following day in the evening, Jace burst into the Institute with the redheaded mundane girl from the Pandemonium Club—Clary Fray. She was unconscious and with Ravener poison in her veins. Hodge was furious, that much was clear. He worked diligently to heal the poor girl, but Eva could still feel the rage simmering in him like a controlled fire. To her confusion, there was also a hint of shock in him, as if the sight of Clary Fray was of someone he recognized or thought he knew. It was an odd feeling, but Eva pushed it aside, finding the sight of Jace scrubbing ichor and blood from the carpet in the entryway highly amusing. Hodge rarely distributed punishments when they disobeyed him, but when he did, he usually had them be extremely tedious.

Clary woke up three days later. She’d killed the Ravener demon with Jace’s Sensor, having shoved it down its throat and choking it with the runes engraved in it. Eva couldn’t help but be impressed: rarely do mundanes confront demons and manage to live, let alone kill them. However, Jace admitted he carved a rune on Clary, shocking them all and throwing Hodge into a fit. She could’ve turned into a Forsaken—but she didn’t.

Clary  _ had _ to be Nephilim. 

Jace left the Institute with Clary in an attempt to find out what occurred in her apartment and to possibly find some clues that led her to her mother, Jocelyn. Meanwhile, Eva sat rereading Tolkien’s  _ The Silmarillion  _ in the kitchen as Izzy threw whatever she could find in the cupboards and fridge into a boiling pot and called it a delicious soup. Eva loved her  _ parabatai _ to death, but cooking was not her forte—Eva’s never really had the heart to tell her, and was glad Jace was bold enough to save everyone in the Institute from Izzy’s deadly recipes. 

“ _ Another  _ mundane?” Eva sighed in exasperation as she watched Jace enter the kitchen with Clary and the boy from the Pandemonium Club, Simon Lewis. “Hodge is going to suckerpunch you into the Void one of these days.”

“I had to bring him,” Jace said firmly. “I just saw two of the men who killed my father.”

Eva’s shoulders tensed at his words and she could see Izzy did the same from the corner of her eye. Nevertheless, Izzy hid her emotions better and merely pointed her wooden spoon at Simon. “I don’t suppose he’s one of them?”

Simon was shamelessly looking between them, trying to drink up their individual beauty all at once. Eva noted Clary was immediately upset by this, but the feeling quickly went away when she turned to speak to Jace as he rummaged through the fridge for one of Hodge’s clearly labeled containers. Simon found his way into the seat on the counter next to Eva, smiling awkwardly. “I’m Simon.”

“I’m Eva,” she laughed. “Short for Evangeline.”

“Wow, that’s  _ really _ fancy,” he said. He was turning his head towards Izzy, no doubt to introduce himself, but the girl already had her wooden spoon dripping with tomato paste pointed at him like one would point a knife at a demon. 

“She’s taken, mundie,” Izzy warned. “So unless you want the entire New York vampire clan at your doorstep, I suggest you back off.”

“You’re dating a  _ vampire _ ?” Simon asked incredulously. 

Eva laughed at the boy’s innocence before turning to Izzy with a quirked brow, “I’m shocked you’re defending Raphael—he would gag if he found out.”

“ _ Thy people are my people _ , so unfortunately I have to,” she shrugged. “But you can flirt with me all you want, mundie; just make it worth my while.”

“Eva!” Jace called out from the kitchen doorframe. When she looked, the golden-haired boy was pointing at Church who very eagerly sat by the stove, hoping to catch another chunk of fish from Izzy’s bubbling stew. “Church isn’t going anywhere—that podgy, backstabbing Judas. You mind taking us to Hodge?”

They walked the halls of the Institute with Jace answering any rapid-fire questions Clary had about the world that was beginning to open before her eyes. To Eva’s surprise, Clary even had a question for her. “Jace and Alec are  _ parabatai _ , so that means you and Izzy are too?”

“Yes, we are,” Eva nodded. “But don’t think it’s such a common thing—finding a  _ parabatai _ is incredibly rare, and we’re one of the lucky ones.”

“So you fight together in battle?”

“We do everything together.”

“Well, not  _ everything _ ,” Jace teased. “I’m sure Raphael—”

Eva’s cheeks flushed. “Shut up, Jace!”

“By all means, continue.” Hodge miraculously appeared from a neighboring corridor that led to the Institute’s greenhouses. Hugo was perched on his shoulder like a loyal sentry. “What about Raphael?”

Even though Eva was facing away from Jace, she could feel his satisfied grin burning into the back of her skull. Thankfully, Clary was impulsive and swung the topic out of the park to replace it with hers. “We were attacked by Forsaken and Jace saw the men that killed his father when we were at Luke’s house.”

Hodge paled at her words, but Eva really began to worry when she started feeling a gnawing sense of fear and dread and guilt from Hodge with every name Clary and Jace told him:  _ Pangborn, Blackwell, Lucian Graymark _ . He told them the Circle was rising again—the group of Shadowhunters that followed Valentine and orchestrated the Uprising all those years ago.

They went to the library where Hodge searched the endless shelves before pulling out a brown leather-bound book. From it, he read the loyalty oath of the Circle of Raziel written twenty years ago: “ _ I hereby render unconditional obedience to the Circle and its principles.... I will be ready to risk my life at any time for the Circle, in order to preserve the purity of the bloodlines of Idris, and for the mortal world with whose safety we are charged. _ ” 

Hodge looked exhausted as he told Clary what Valentine and the Circle stood for, what occurred during the Uprising, why Valentine specifically chose to attack Downworlders during the signing of the Accords—because they’d be unarmed and defenseless. He explained most of the Circle’s documents were destroyed by the Clave in an attempt to wipe away the stain it created in their history, and when Jace pointed out he had a copy of said documents, Hodge’s eyes went directly to Eva’s. 

The grief, the shame, and the regret that shot out of Hodge was like a knife to the gut. He finally said, “Because I helped write it. I was part of the Circle, and so was Clary’s mother, and the Lightwoods.”

* * *

While Clary was reeling about her mother being married to Valentine and being part of an organization like the Circle, Eva was also letting the information sink in. Hodge and the Lightwoods were part of Valentine’s plan to destroy Downworlders and the Accords, but since they turned themselves in after the Uprising, they were given leniency. The Lightwoods were banished from Idris unless it was for official business and were given the New York Institute to run while Hodge was cursed and could never step outside ever again. 

It all made sense now: why Hodge always sent them to buy things instead of going out himself, why he never wanted to play in the snow or take them to the park when they were children, why he faked a fever when she asked him to be her witness at her  _ parabatai _ ceremony with Izzy. It all made sense, and Eva couldn’t help the bitterness beginning to settle within her as the day went on. Puzzle pieces began to fit in her head perfectly and the more she put together, the more upset she became. Raphael texted her at sundown, asking her if she wanted to go watch his telenovelas and maybe get some dinner. Just thinking of him made her chest tight and she forced back tears as she texted him back:  _ Not tonight. I’m tired from training. _

His response was quick and simple.  _ Mentirosa.  _

Eva hated that he knew her so well.  _ I’m upset about stuff that’s happening in the Institute right now. I need time to process it all. _

_ Okay.  _ He responded just as quickly. _ I’m here if you need me. _

Eva was curled up on her bed, staring at the glowing streetlight that poured in from her window. Occasionally, she’d twirl the hourglass pendant on her chest, finding its warmth comforting. When a knock came from her door, she sighed. It was probably Izzy coming to ask her why she was down in the dumps again. Eva had turned her away the first time and hoped that by not responding to her knock, she’d get the hint and go away, but the door opened nonetheless. Eva sat up hastily, “I said I don’t want to—”

“Talk about it?” Hodge stood in her room, his eyes downcast behind his glasses. He closed the door behind him gently. “I’m afraid that’s why I’m here.”

Eva turned her head, watching from the corner of her eye as he approached her bed and sat down on the edge. He spoke first, “Do you think I’m not ashamed of what I’ve done?”

“I know you are,” she looked at his face. The emotions floating around her were clear as day, but that wasn’t the issue at hand. “It’s just all starting to make sense, and I’m getting angrier every time I think about it.”

“Angry at me or—”

“You’re really dense when you want to be, Hodge,” she spat bitterly. He visibly flinched at the harshness of her tone. She continued nonetheless, “Now I understand why you hate Raphael—you hated Downworlders when you were with Valentine, and you still do!”

“I do not hate Downworlders—I never have,” he said firmly. “Raphael could be Nephilim and from the most prestigious family in Idris for all I care; I still wouldn’t like him.”

Eva frowned in confusion, letting Hodge elaborate, “I just don’t like it: you having a boyfriend and doing the Angel knows what with him. You think I haven’t figured out why I mysteriously got drunk that one night last year? You’re right when you said I’m dense when I want to be—I’ve purposefully been acting ignorant since that day.”

Eva flushed and looked away, twiddling her thumbs on her lap nervously. “Sorry about that, by the way.”

Hodge reached out and smoothed down her curls affectionately. “You’re an adult already, and no one can tell you what to do with your life, including myself. I just worry for you constantly; I can’t help it.”

“You’re such a stereotypical overprotective dad, only you walk out on the front porch with a pair of chakrams instead of a shotgun,” Eva laughed softly. “How come you never got married, or had kids?”

Hodge was startled by the question and Eva felt that familiar pang that was characteristic of his soul:  _ grief. _ “I suppose it was never meant to be.”

“But you would’ve liked that life?”

“It would’ve been nice,” he smiled fondly. “To raise children with my wife, to read to them and teach them everything I know.”

“By the Angel, you’ll bore them to death,” Eva joked lightly. Hodge laughed but let out a wince when Eva latched onto his side in an embrace. 

“My shoulder, Eva.”

“Sorry,” she loosened her hug on him. “The past is the past, and I know you have a lot of regrets. I understand now why you said that about Sydney Carton—you understand him more than anyone.”

“The  _ unrequited love _ aspect of his character is a bit much, I’d say,” he joked dryly. “I just hoped you wouldn’t hate me after I told you of my involvement with the Circle; I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you did.”

“I could never hate you, Hodge,” she kissed his cheek in affection. “Though, you really should try to get along with Raphael. He’s not a bad guy, I promise.” 

“I don’t know about that,” he rolled his eyes in exasperation. “As long as he makes you happy, I can try to make the effort, but I make no promises.”


	15. Trojan Horse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A rapturous evening of delights.

Jace and Clary journeyed to the Silent City, hoping the Brothers would be able to lift a block placed in her memory. They returned from the Silent City hours later and Jace had them all meet up with him at Taki’s Diner to brainstorm a plan for recovering Clary’s memories. Even Simon the mundane tagged along, having arrived at the Institute that morning asking for Clary, though Eva knew it was to talk to Izzy. Eva couldn’t help but find it adorable.

“Wait, what was the name in Clary’s head?” Izzy demanded. Eva looked up from her tacos—not as good as the ones at  _ Doña Flor _ , but they would do for now. She recognized Izzy’s tone; it was that demanding one that let her know Izzy was onto something.

“Magnus Bane,” Jace raised a curious brow as he licked the salt from his French fries off his fingers. Like Eva, he also recognized Izzy’s tone. “You know him?”

“It can’t be—I’m almost totally sure—” Izzy rummaged around in her purse until she fished out a folded piece of blue paper. Alec took it from her hands, his scowl visible for miles.

“It’s a party invitation for somewhere in Brooklyn,” he rolled his eyes. “I hate Brooklyn.”

“Brooklyn?” Eva’s eyes widened, realizing its familiarity. “Does it say something about  _ a rapturous evening of delights _ ?”

“Yeah, word for word,” Clary, who had the paper in her hands now, nodded. “You were invited?”

“Raphael was complaining about this party last week,” Eva said. “Magnus invited almost half of the New York clan, including him—he wasn’t too happy about it. He hates parties.”

“Could you convince him to go?” Clary asked, her green eyes wide and hopeful. “He could get us inside.”

“At what time is this party?”

Jace leaned over to look at the paper in Clary’s hands. Eva fought back a smirk when she felt Clary’s emotions flare up in that nervousness one feels around a crush. “Midnight.”

His telenovelas would be over by then. He’s already watching a new set of novelas, but they’re always from eight to ten P.M. “I’ll sweet talk him into getting us in, don’t worry.”

They returned to the Institute after their lunch at Taki’s. When the sun set, Raphael came by the Institute and picked her up for their usual telenovela date at the Four Seasons penthouse. They were curled up together on the bed and Eva waited for his second novela to end before making her request.

“Can we go to that party in Brooklyn?” she batted her eyelashes dramatically. “Magnus Bane’s party?”

“Why?” he asked, genuinely curious. 

Eva told him as quickly about Clary Fray, about her blocked memories. He knew all of this already, except the part about finding Magnus Bane’s name in her mind and Izzy’s party flyer.

“We were hoping you could get us in,” she pressed a kiss to his jawline. “You were invited, after all.”

“I hate parties,” he rolled his eyes. Eva leaned forward and planted another kiss on his neck. He wouldn’t have minded it so much had it not been for her hand wandering a bit too far below his belt. His body tensed all over and his words were hushed, “You’re going to seduce me into attending this party? That’s very juvenile of you,  _ mi cielo _ .”

“Can we go?” she mumbled against his skin. He let out a sigh and bucked his hips against her touch. _ Got him _ , she thought proudly. “Pretty please?” 

“I don’t feel like it.” He was being stubborn just to annoy her. His voice was tight in an attempt to appear indifferent, but there was no point in hiding. He knew her well, but two could play at that game. “In fact, I’m considering watching the rerun of  _ Amor Bravío _ at midnight just because I liked tonight’s episode so much.”

“Fine.” Eva abruptly drew back her hand and rolled away from him towards the nightstand. She reached for her phone, flipping it open to send out a text, doing so with an evil smirk. She had to be quick about it; if there was anything that annoyed Raphael more than missing his novelas, it was unfinished business. She knew his gaze was burning into the back of her skull, a feeling of desire and frustration consuming him like an aura. She left him hot and bothered, and he was weighing his options in his head: he could be stubborn for a bit longer and enjoy her beg a few more times, or he could give in.

Apparently, he was in no mood to continue the game. The moment Eva snapped her phone closed, he rolled her onto her back and towered over her with his body.

“I’m getting you in, and then we leave,” he said huskily against her ear. Eva hummed in thoughtfulness, unbuttoning the first two buttons of his shirt to frustrate him further. It worked like a charm; he was turning into putty in her hands.

“We’ll stay for two hours, at least,” she purred. “C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

“You, who loathes loud music and nightclubs like I do?”

“We can loathe it together,” she joked.

Thank the Angel she sent that message before Raphael had his way with her. 

_ I’ll meet you guys there at midnight with the Trojan Horse. _

* * *

“You’re late!” Izzy called out into the dark street as bright light engulfed her and everyone that stood behind her. The rumbling sound of an engine inched closer and closer before it was close enough to distinguish: it was another motorcycle similar to the others parked along the sidewalk. Eva hopped off the motorcycle, giving everyone a sheepish grin. 

“We got here when we got here,” Raphael said as he swung his leg over the motorcycle. The bike obediently turned itself off as soon as he did so.

“You’re still pissed off about that?” Izzy scoffed. “That was a year ago.”

“Lovely first impression, Rapha,” Eva jabbed his arm scoldingly. She turned to Clary and Simon, wide-eyed in shock like all mundanes seemed to look when presented with something supernatural. In this case, it was their first time meeting a real, unbreathing vampire. “My sourpuss of a boyfriend, Raphael Santiago. I promise you he’s very happy to be helping us.”

“Doesn’t look like it,” Simon blurted out. 

“An observant mundane,” Raphael grinned, purposefully exposing his fangs just to get a frightened reaction from them. As he expected, Simon and Clary jumped at the sight and Eva rolled her eyes; Raphael was so childish sometimes. He surprised her when he took her hand and began walking up the sidewalk, brushing past Simon. It was clear that the mundane was more spooked than Clary, and Raphael reveled in it. “That’s certainly a first.”

They all walked up to the front door of the industrial-building-turned-loft, its entryway illuminated by a single lightbulb hanging from a thread over their heads. Raphael reached for the buzzer labeled  _ BANE  _ and gave it one long press. It was only after a minute or two that they heard footsteps approach the door before it swung open, revealing a tall and thin Asian man with golden tanned skin and spiked black hair. Eva didn’t know it was possible to put so much glitter on your eyelids and not have them droop closed.

“Raphael! My sweet boy!” he said happily. His yellow-green cat eyes swept from Raphael towards Eva and he gasped. “Is _ this _ your girlfriend? I almost didn’t believe you when you said she was the most beautiful girl in New York—the angel blood in her is vicious!” He gave her a quick dramatic bow. “Magnus Bane; it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Eva giggled as Raphael rolled his eyes in annoyance. Magnus straightened his back to wave his hand towards the crowd behind them, his jeweled rings sparkling with every twirl of his long fingers. “I said you could bring your lovely cupcake to the party, but I don’t recall saying you could bring the entire bakery.”

“They insisted,” Raphael shrugged. Magnus narrowed his eyes, looking each of them over carefully. Nevertheless, he didn’t seem too keen on arguing with Raphael and stepped aside for them to pass. 

They all split up the moment they entered, with Raphael leading Eva to the bar on the other side of the loft. There were few barstools and all were taken. Eva was mentally thanking herself for wearing comfortable boots just as Raphael’s hand went to tap a large man’s shoulder. The man swiveled around on the barstool, his flawless pale face tight with a frown but it immediately melted away at the sight of Raphael. 

All Raphael had to do was nod his head sideways and the man practically flew off the chair and disappeared into a nearby crowd of more vampires. As if nothing happened, Raphael patted the seat, wordlessly telling her to sit. Eva couldn’t keep the grin off her face as she hopped onto the cushioned barstool. “Well, that was impressive.”

Raphael smirked but didn’t respond to her; instead, he called for the bartender and ordered an Arnold Palmer and whatever blood was on tap. Despite being together for a year, Eva had never seen Raphael interact with vampires of his clan. He liked to keep her separate from the complex politics of the Night Children, and while she knew clan leaders were very respected, it was another thing entirely to see the dynamic in action. It was exhilarating.

“Was that really so alluring to you?” Raphael leaned against the counter, preferring to stand. “Your pulse spiked.”

“Is it such a bad thing to find you hot when you’re in clan leader mode?” she teased, the tip of her boot nudging the back of his knee. “Power is very attractive to the ladies, you know.”

“It won’t last long if  _ la bruja _ decides to show her face again,” he said this in a hushed tone, close to her ear. Eva knew the truth behind his rise to power; he’d confided in her how Camille Belcourt, the real clan leader, had to flee after he threatened to turn her into the Clave for killing mundanes. She hasn’t returned, but Raphael has been looking over his shoulder ever since.

The bartender placed the drinks in front of them and Raphael went straight for his glass of deep red blood. Eva watched him take a careful sip, licking his lips as he habitually did. She nudged his leg with her boot. “Can I ask you something?”

“No.”

“Is Magnus the warlock that helped you when you Turned?” she stirred her Arnold Palmer with the straw absentmindedly. “You never mentioned his name, but I can tell you two know each other.”

Raphael sipped his drink again before nodding. “Yes, it was him. He practically raised me.”

“ _ My sweet boy? _ ” She reached out to smooth the curls on the back of his head. “No one calls you that and gets away with it.”

“That’s what gave me away?” 

“That, and the fact that he called me  _ cupcake  _ and beautiful and you didn’t even flinch.”

“Well, he’s right about the last part,” he shrugged casually. “There was no point in correcting him.”

“Why, thank you.” Eva flipped her hair dramatically, like Izzy would. She suddenly recalled that night at Pandemonium when they met Clary Fray and jumped on the opportunity to put Raphael on the spot. “What was it about me that got your attention at  _ The Nightfall _ ?”

He looked at her with a quirked brow, urging her to explain herself. “Izzy stands out so much compared to me. I was just wondering why—”

“Let me stop you right there,” Raphael placed a hand on her knee affectionately. She could feel the coolness of his skin through her jeans, but oddly enough, his touch always made her body burst with warmth. “Isabelle didn’t even notice me when she walked up to us at the bar, and even if she did, I’m not overly fond of women like her—some men are, like that mundane she’s been grinding with on the dancefloor,” he rolled his eyes at the thought, “But you were  _ different _ —it’s hard to explain. You could’ve left me alone after I ignored you, but you didn’t and not a lot of people are willing to...”

He trailed off, his jaw squaring tightly as the overwhelming feeling of vulnerability and slight embarrassment floated around them. Eva smiled and placed her hand over his on her knee, lacing their fingers together intimately. “Get to know you? Is that what you want to say?”

He shot her a playfully pointed look which made her laugh. “You’re such a softie, Rapha. It’s hard not to love you.”

He chuckled and leaned in to brush his lips with hers. “ _ Te quiero con la vida, mi ángel _ .”

“Me too.” She kissed him, but it didn’t last very long. A hand landed on her shoulder and spun her around on the barstool, pulling her away from Raphael’s lips abruptly. If it wasn’t for Izzy looking so distraught, she would’ve snapped at her. Just feeling her anxiety scared her. “What’s wrong?”

“He’s a rat!” she whispered harshly. 

“You can do better, Isabelle,” Raphael said flatly. The girl shot him a deadly look.

“Not _ you _ ,” she spat. “It’s Simon! He drank some blue cocktail and he turned into a rat!”

Eva’s jaw dropped. “Jesus, Izzy! Where is he now?”

“Under the bar.”

“Calm down and go find Clary,” Eva told her firmly. “What does Simon look like?”

After Izzy told her he was a brown rat, she disappeared into the crowd to find Clary while Eva hopped off the barstool. As she circled around the counter to look for anything that resembled a rat, she heard Raphael chuckle. “Evangeline Starkwood, New York City’s finest rat catcher.”

“Shut up,” she snapped and dropped on her knees when she saw a furry creature curled up into the shadowy crevice of the bar. She called to it—“Simon?”—and let out a relieved sigh when the rat whipped its tiny head around and began scampering over to her. She scooped it into her hands, its tiny heart beating frantically against her fingers. When she walked back around the counter, Raphael purposefully exposed his fangs and stared intently into the eyes of the terrified boy-turned-rat. 

“A snack? You shouldn’t have,  _ mi amor _ ,” he joked. At his words, Simon let out a shriek and squirmed in her hands. Eva immediately punched him in the arm which he had already flexed as if he expected her reaction.

Clary arrived at the bar with Magnus, Jace, Alec, and Izzy in tow. The redhead thanked her profusely when Eva passed Simon the rat into her arms; she looked so relieved as she hugged him to her chest. Despite Clary’s insistence Magnus use a spell to turn him back, the High Warlock refused and reassured her that he would turn back in a few hours. Clary stuffed poor Simon into her backpack as Magnus left their little group to attend to some angry voices at his front door. 

“Can we leave?” Clary frowned. “I’m sick of this place.”

“ _ Al fin, dios mio _ ,” Raphael slammed the rest of the blood in his glass and pushed himself off the counter. As they all made their way to leave, the cluster of people they’d previously heard yelling were actually angry vampires complaining to Magnus. 

“Any pile of dust in this loft could be Gregor!” one female vampire cried. “I can’t go around sweeping every single one hoping it’s him!”

“I rarely sweep,” Magnus studied his black polished fingernails in boredom. “When he turns back in the morning, I’ll be sure to send him to the hotel in a taxi with blacked out windows.”

“What’s the problem here?” Raphael strolled into the cluster. All the vampires tensed at the sight of their leader and bowed their heads slightly in respect as they explained the situation: their missing drunken friends and their motorbikes mysteriously being ruined by holy water.

“And you’re complaining to Magnus why, exactly?” Raphael raised an eyebrow, a collected coolness in his voice that spoke volumes to his role as clan leader. “He offered to send any vampires that wake up here back to the Dumort safely and as for the motorcycles, they’re parked outside; he can’t be held responsible. You’ve  _ all  _ had too much to drink, so I suggest you start heading back before sunrise.”

“With that being said,” Magnus raised his arms in the air and shouted, “Party’s over! Everybody out!” 

The music stopped and everyone began to shuffle out of the loft. Raphael took Eva’s hand and walked through the crowd; the vampires parted the way for him to get through easily. When they were finally on the sidewalk, Eva kissed his cheek. “Thank you for getting us in. I appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it,” he joked dryly. “I mean it;  _ don’t _ .”

Eva only laughed. Vampires were checking their bikes; it was only a few that were ruined with holy water and those that were had to get chained to another working bike and dragged along like a tin can behind a _ Just Married  _ getaway car. Eva couldn’t help but think Jace had anything to do with the sabotage; he was always secretly jealous of the motorcycles vampires were known for. Or perhaps he did it just to see them all get annoyed. Eva put her money on the latter.

They were nearly alone on the street when Izzy, Alec, and Jace made it out. As soon as Clary made an appearance on the sidewalk a minute later, the Lightwood siblings began to make their way to the nearest subway station.

“You want to go eat something?” Raphael asked her as he sat on his rumbling motorcycle slipping on leather gloves. 

“Maybe some horchata—” Eva couldn’t finish. Jace was calling out to her from down the street, Clary following at his heels as he approached them. To Eva’s confusion, Clary looked mortified with those large green eyes of hers wide on her freckled face.

“What now?” Raphael huffed in exasperation.

“One of your vamps pickpocketed Clary and took Simon out of her backpack,” Jace explained, showing him Clary’s backpack. The zipper had clearly been torn from the outside. “We need to get him back, or else they’re going to kill him the moment he turns back.”

Eva whipped her head around to stare incredulously at Raphael. Her boyfriend did not look amused in the slightest. In fact, he looked like he was going to set very strict rules in his clan for parties and social gatherings. 

“Rapha?” Eva asked softly after a moment of silence. 

“Be at the Dumort in an hour,” Raphael finally spoke, his motorcycle revving loudly as if it sensed its owner’s irritation. “If you’re even a second late, the mundane’s ours.”


	16. The Moon's Children

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jace es un pendejo.

“I hope you were joking when you said that.”

“What? About keeping the mundane?” Raphael had landed his motorcycle a few blocks away from the Dumort and was driving it on the streets. He was glamoured from sight, so he was breaking almost every traffic law in New York City. “Of course I was; what would I do with a mundane?”

“You shouldn’t scare her like that,” Eva pressed her cheek against his leather jacket, watching taxis drive by without having a clue Raphael was cutting them off. Otherwise, like typical New Yorkers, they would’ve honked. “She’s Nephilim but was raised mundane and had her memories blocked; it’s a lot for her.”

“She’s dangerous,” Raphael said. “She had her memories blocked for a reason, and Wayland is only trying to get in her pants.”

“I don’t know about that,” she laughed. “Clary isn’t impressed by Jace like other girls tend to be.”

“All the more reason to get in her pants.”

“Is that why I was so interesting to you?” She dug her chin into his shoulder blade for emphasis. “Because I wouldn’t leave you alone while other girls ignore you?”

“Perhaps.” Raphael’s motorcycle slowed down and drove into an alley to park. He offered Eva his hand for her to get off the bike. “I would normally park on the roof, but since we’re meeting Wayland and his latest conquest out here…”

“Stop it,” she nudged him scoldingly, but couldn’t help the smile on her face. Clary certainly had a bit of a crush on Jace but was trying not to show it. Jace was always a bit difficult to read emotionally, but it was obvious he was interested. 

Jace and Clary were ten minutes late, much to Raphael’s annoyance, and they arrived with daggers and seraph blades in their belts. Raphael pointed it out, “Are you two coming to get the mundane or hold me hostage?”

“We should,” Jace said. “It would make things very interesting.”

Raphael led them through a backdoor entrance he had to yank open due to a rusting handle. The corridors were pitch dark but were lit up nicely with Jace’s witchlight stone. After walking through what seemed like an endless maze of hallways, they walked into an enormous grand ballroom with cracked marble floors, chandeliers ridden with cobwebs, and along the upper walls were curved balconies decorated with gold-framed mirrors crowned with gilded Cupid’s heads. Windows of dirty glass overlooked pitch black adjacent hallways.

“What a dump,” Jace said in his usual snappy tone. 

“I assure you the upstairs of the Dumort is as glorious as it once was,” Raphael tapped the heel of his leather boot on the marble floor. “This ballroom is rarely used.”

“Then why are we here?”

Raphael raised his hand to his lips and produced a whistle so high-pitched, Eva was shocked the mirrors and windows didn’t crack. Within seconds, vampires poured into the ballroom in an orderly fashion. They were soundless as they moved and there was certainly no chatter among them. They were all summoned by their leader, and all of their eyes were on Raphael and the Nephilim standing behind him.

“Anyone that attended Magnus Bane’s party tonight step forward,” Raphael began. When a group of about twenty vampires stepped forward, Raphael continued, “Did any of you bring a rat here from that party?”

“I did,” a vampire with dreadlocks raised his hand.

“Was it a brown rat?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Bring it here, please,” Raphael said. The dreadlocked boy bowed his head and dashed out of the ballroom in a flash. The ballroom was eerily quiet until a young lady with Asian features and blue-streaked hair stepped forward. 

“Sir? Are we in trouble?” she asked, her eyes trailing over the Nephilim behind her; Eva noted a spark of anger in them when she met Eva’s glance across the room.

“You’re not in trouble, Lily—none of you are, and certainly not with the Nephilim,” Raphael explained. “That brown rat is a mundane that stupidly drank a shapeshifting cocktail at the party and he’s a friend of theirs.”

“Oh, that explains it!” the dreadlocked vampire returned with a squirming rat in his large hand. “I thought this was Zeke! I was wondering why he was copping such an attitude!”

“Simon!” Clary called out from behind them. The rat squeaked in response, telling them all it was indeed Simon. Raphael took the rat from the boy’s hands and turned to walk towards them. As he did so, he tossed Simon high into the air and caught him in his other hand. Eva frowned, knowing he did that just to scare the poor mundane. 

“Now, you take this rat and never show your faces here again, are we clear?” Raphael said. 

“Yes! Thank you!” Clary reached her hands out for Simon, but she never got to take him. The glass windows lining the ballroom suddenly burst in tiny flakes of glass, scattering them all over the ruined marble floors. The shards crunched under everyone’s shoes as they stepped back in surprise. Surrounding them were ferocious snarling beasts with sharp teeth and pointed red eyes. 

Werewolves.

“How dare you enter our place?” Raphael shouted so loudly, it made Eva jump. She’d never seen him so furious. The largest wolf growled and took a step forward with a large, clawed paw. The wolf meant no harm; however, and merely morphed back into his human self: a tall muscular man with long hair and a weathered face.

“We didn’t come here looking for trouble,” he said and pointed a stiff arm at Clary. “We came for the girl.”

“You can’t have her,” Raphael spat. “She’s in our territory, and you’re trespassing. The Children of the Night owe you nothing, wolf.”

“I’m so glad you said that,” the man grinned and bent over, his body rippling back onto all fours to take his werewolf form. He howled into the frescoed ceiling, and all hell broke loose.

The werewolves charged and the vampires clashed with them head-on in the center of the ballroom. Eva had no weapons on her, only her stele. She quickly whipped it out of her pocket and began drawing a Swiftness rune onto the back of her left hand when she heard Raphael cry out in pain. When she looked up, his hand was gushing blood and a tiny furball was hurrying across the floor, avoiding the enormous paws of werewolves and the boots of vampires.

“You deserve that,” Eva said, finishing the rune and feeling its power seeping into her skin. “For tossing him in the air like that.”

She expected him to glare at her like he does when he knows she’s right, but instead she was met with a look of horror. It was only until she heard the snarls of the wolf did she realize the enormous beast was leaping for her, or for Raphael—she had no idea. The rune on her hand definitely helped and she managed to lunge herself out of the wolf’s way, but she crash-landed on a pile of broken glass, the razor-sharp edges digging into her skin like millions of needles. The one day she decides to wear a breezy sleeveless top to combat the hot summer night is the day she has to roll around on broken glass. Lovely.

The next thing she saw was Raphael tangled on the floor with the same wolf. He was snapping at him with his fangs until he finally caught the side of its head and bit down hard. The wolf yelped in pain and pulled away, blood gushing from the deep wound. Raphael would’ve leapt onto the bleeding wolf to finish the job but a long howl stopped him. The same wolf that had spoken to Raphael earlier was on a dais at the end of the ballroom, howling at his wolves who obediently stopped fighting the vampires and began following him out through the enormous double doors and into the dark hallways. Eva noted Jace and Clary were nowhere to be found, and neither was a brown rat.

“After them!” Raphael cried. Most of the vampires followed orders while the others that remained stayed to check if any of their kin lying on the bloody marble floors were alive. Most were dead.

Eva pulled herself up and with a wince, she curled her elbow to look at the damage. Blood streamed her entire arm and protruding from it like diamonds on the wall of a cavern were sparkling glass shards. Every time she moved, their sharp edges dug deeper and tore at her skin like tiny teeth.

“ _ Mi vida _ .” Raphael looked down at her arm, a swirl of rage and fear looming around him. “Did he bite you? Claw at you?”

“No, he didn’t touch me,” she shook her head. “The glass did a pretty number on me, though.”

Raphael surprised her when he bent down and swept her off her feet, carrying her to the nearest seat he could find, which happened to be a dusty divan in an adjacent room. Eva assumed it was the ballroom’s reception hall.

“ _ Déjame ver _ ,” he mumbled as he knelt down in front of her. He gently took her wrist and eyed the wound. “There’s no healing rune you can use for the bleeding?”

She shook her head. “If I use an  _ iratze _ , it’ll close the wounds over the glass shards.”

Just then, Lily appeared in the reception hall. She regarded them both with a scowl before bowing her head respectfully. “The Nephilim boy and the girl with the rat took one of the motorcycles on the roof and flew off. The werewolves ran after that. We chased them to the perimeter of the hotel, but it’s almost sunrise, sir.”

Raphael nodded. “Start getting rid of the bodies. Feed from the werewolves if you’d like—I don’t care.”

As Lily left, Raphael studied her arm intently. Eva felt the need to add, “A Silent Brother would be able to pick them out individually; Hodge says they sew their eyes shut, but they see better than anyone.”

Raphael said nothing; he only stared at her wounds with wide eyes seething with fury. She could feel his rage oozing out of him like a steady stream and it was suffocating her.

“Rapha, please calm down.”

“I _ am _ calm.”

“No, you’re not. I feel it.”

He said nothing and stood, pulling her up with him as gently as he could. He swept her into his arms and carried her down the corridor, turning a few times before he walked into what Eva distinguished as perhaps the former boiler room of the hotel. He shouldered open a door and they were in an alley on the east side of the Dumort. The sky was streaked with orange and yellow streaks of sunlight and Eva began to squirm in his arms as he walked up the street.

“Rapha, no—”

“Shush,” he set her down and flagged down a taxi driving by. He threw open the door and had Eva go inside first and he followed soon after. Raphael used his  _ encanto _ to make the taxi driver forget he saw Eva’s injury and after telling him the address of the Institute, Raphael made it a point to tell him to floor it for extra cash. As the taxi sped through the streets, Eva’s worry was beginning to blossom in her chest. Raphael was eerily quiet and the simmering rage just below the surface was terrifying her. He was in the daylight and wasn’t caring one bit, and that was an immediate red flag for her.

The taxi parked across the street from the Institute which to the driver must’ve looked like a dilapidated church. Raphael helped her out of the car and looked into the driver’s eyes when the man rolled down his window. “I already paid you.”

Eva couldn’t help but feel bad for the mundane as he nodded happily and drove down the street without a worry in the world. She let Raphael scoop her up in his arms again, carrying her as if she weighed absolutely nothing. Eva couldn’t help but gawk at him like a schoolgirl with a crush; the rays of morning sunlight made him look stunning as they reflected off his perfect skin, making sharp shadows over his nose and mouth and giving his eyes a honey-glazed glow. 

He put her down when they stepped in front of the Institute’s main entrance. Eva reached for the handles, but the door inched itself open for her as if it recognized her. Much to her shock, Hodge’s hysterical voice traveled into the courtyard and when she pulled the door open further, she saw everyone standing in the foyer: Hodge was flailing his arms as he did when he was giving them a furious lecture, Izzy and Alec standing right behind him with grave expressions, and Jace and Clary, filthy and covered in blood, taking the scolding full force. Simon was thankfully not a rat anymore, and while he was not on the receiving end of Hodge’s fury, he looked extremely guilty.

“ _ Pendejo! _ ” 

Hodge stopped mid-lecture and everyone turned to look at them, only noticing now that the front door had been opened. But by the time they registered what was happening, Raphael crossed the foyer at breakneck speed and swung a heavy fist into Jace’s jaw. There was a sickening crunch and Jace fell back onto the floor from the sudden impact.

“I bring you into my territory and you call the werewolves to fight us?” Raphael cried, his voice echoing in the high ceiling of the Institute. Jace raised his head to meet his eyes in a deadly glare and spit a glob of blood onto the carpet. Raphael pointed at Clary. “There’s a reason her memories were blocked! She’s a danger to everyone—”

“My mother had Magnus block my memories!” Clary shouted back in anger. “She was running from the Clave!”

“I bet there’s a reason for that, too!” Raphael said viciously and turned back to Jace. “Are you so desperate to get laid that you made sure to save the girl and her stupid mundane friend but didn’t even  _ think _ of looking back for Eva?” He pointed at Eva standing at the entrance with Izzy at her side now, her arm encrusted with dried blood and the twinkle of glass. “She could’ve been bitten by a werewolf! She could’ve been Turned! She could’ve been  _ killed _ !” 

It was deathly quiet. Shafts of sunlight were entering the foyer through the open door, outlining Raphael and creating a silhouette of him against the eyes of everyone in the room.

“Yes, I’m a Daylighter.” He ran a hand over his face, suddenly exhausted, and gestured at Eva with an open hand. “Can you please call a Silent Brother for her before I lose my mind?” 


	17. Déjà vu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It will be déjà vu for many of you.

Hodge called for the Silent Brothers while Jace, Simon, and Eva made themselves comfortable in the infirmary. As they waited for the Brothers to arrive, Raphael was bombarded with questions. It annoyed him to be questioned so furiously, mostly out of genuine curiosity for his strange abilities, but it didn’t annoy him more than having no answers. It all occurred after drinking from Eva that night she was mortally wounded, but he didn’t know much more beyond that. Eva made everyone swear not to tell anyone and they all swore on the Angel to keep Raphael’s secret. Even Jace swore.

Brother Zachariah soon arrived at his leisure and in typical Silent Brother fashion, he had everyone leave the room. Neither Jace nor Eva were in grave danger, so even their  _ parabatai _ were forced out of the infirmary. Seeing there was not much to be done other than wait, Alec and Isabelle disappeared into the corridors as did Hodge, and Clary retreated to her bedroom to shower and change. Having nowhere to go, Raphael sat himself against the wall across from the infirmary doors and waited patiently.

The soft sound of footsteps followed by a heavy herbal scent made Raphael look up and see none other than Hodge approaching, wearing the same sharp tweed suit he’s always seen him in and holding a mug of steaming liquid in his hand. Raphael’s mood immediately soured and he refused to speak unless he was spoken to. 

“I made this for you.” Hodge stopped in front of him and bent down slightly to hold out the mug. When Raphael frowned at him, he added, “It’s a tisane I specially formulated for a vampire. It’s easy on your stomach and will keep you full.”

Raphael took it, feeling the heat of the mug only minimally on his cold fingers. “Is it poisoned?”

“No,” Hodge answered despite knowing it was a rhetorical question. Raphael sipped the steaming drink carefully, his taste buds exploding with the strong lemon flavor. It was surprisingly delicious and didn’t make him nauseous.

“Thank you for taking care of Eva,” Hodge began, stuffing his hands in his pockets awkwardly. “I appreciate your concern for her.”

“Of course; I always take care of my free meals.”

“I was wrong to think you were using her to feed from her,” Hodge said, looking off to the side as if it embarrassed him to admit he was wrong. “Eva means the world to me. The thought of someone hurting her makes me so angry—”

“I know,” Raphael said and drank a gulp of tea before speaking again, “I would be too.”

“You really do love her.”

Raphael looked up to meet his eyes. To his surprise, the mentor had no trace of disgust or rejection or anger. It was a genuine glow of relief and appreciation. Raphael’s stomach fluttered with butterflies at the thought of his feelings for Eva. He can’t imagine going a single day without hearing her laugh or seeing her smile or having her tease him. 

Still, Raphael was too stubborn to ever admit it out loud to a stranger, much less to the man that stood second in line to kill him if he ever hurt Eva. Raphael simply nodded.

“I’m glad,” Hodge smiled. Tiny wrinkles appeared around the corners of his eyes, making him look a lot older than he was. “I suppose this goes without saying, but you have my blessing.”

“If I knew punching Wayland would get me your acceptance, I would’ve done it ages ago. In fact, I’ll be more than happy to punch him more often free of charge.”

* * *

Brother Zachariah administered powerful healing runes on Jace and gave Simon a soreness-relieving concoction he brewed up in seconds. Having taken care of the boys, the Silent Brother could now give his undivided attention to Eva. Some of the glass shards in her arm were very small while others were embedded deeply in her skin; he needed every ounce of concentration as he picked out each individual razor-sharp piece out with tweezers. 

The sound of glass hitting the metal container near Brother Zachariah filled the silence of the room, other than the soft snores of the boys beyond the curtains blocking Eva’s view of them. The tweezers were incredibly sharp and dug into her skin as they prodded for the tiny shards and pulled them out, their razor edges cutting up her skin like fire; she felt there were millions burrowed inside her. She’d wince, sometimes even yelp in pain, and hiss when she’d feel the warmth of her blood ooze out of the open wounds. 

_ Would you like another pain-killing rune?  _ Brother Zachariah’s voice resonated in her mind.

“No.” She let out a shaky sigh. “I’m fine; just get it over with.” 

Eva clenched her jaw, trying to relax her mind and think about anything but the constant prodding and cuts and searing pain she was feeling. She found unlikely solace when she looked down at the Brother working on her, taking in his very human features—his eyes and mouth were not sewn shut, nor was he shaved bald and he still had full eyebrows. Only two runes scarred his cheekbones; Eva knew Silent Brothers mutilated themselves more than that. He also had much more of an emotional presence than the others. Eva can always grasp a general feeling of people’s emotional states from afar, but she’s come to realize that she gets a very accurate reading when there’s physical contact. She’s done it countlessly with Raphael; it was strikingly similar to the way Silent Brothers spoke with the mind. 

What if she could do the same empathically?

Brother Zachariah was holding onto her wrist gently with one hand while the other held tweezers plucking away at the glass shards. Eva focused on the feel of his long fingers on her skin, on the emotions swirling in his touch and in his soul. Trying to forget the tiny jolts of pain every extraction of glass would bring her.

She heard a violin. A mournful, yet familiar tune. Like déjà vu.

“Who does this remind you of?” Eva blurted out. Brother Zachariah immediately froze, looking almost like a photograph. It made Eva shiver with uneasiness.

_ Why do you ask such a thing? _

“It’s hard to explain, but I feel it,” she said. “I’m feeling your sense of déjà vu, and it makes you sad.”

Brother Zachariah resumed his work. Eva almost thought he wasn’t going to give her an answer until she heard his voice touch her mind very gently, his words bringing along a feeling of deep sorrow and simultaneous love.

_ I was reminded of my parabatai. He was once in a very similar situation to yours at the moment. _

“He’s dead.” It was a statement, one that made Eva’s gut wrench. “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine how that must feel; I couldn’t even begin to think what it’d be like to lose Izzy.”

Brother Zachariah didn’t respond and only kept working. Her mind was buzzing with questions, and it was serving as a very nice distraction from the pain in her arm. “Is that why you became a Silent Brother? Hodge always says those that turn to the Brotherhood do so because there’s nothing left for them.”

_ That is true, but not always true. I joined the Brotherhood because it was my only chance for survival. My parabatai died much later. _

“What about the others? Why did they turn to the Brotherhood?”

_ Most are as Hodge says: they simply lost everything and saw no other meaning to life. Except Brother Enoch—he became a Silent Brother simply to be privy of the Clave’s most scandalous secrets. _

Eva let out a laugh and felt a sudden spark of amusement in Brother Zachariah’s touch. He was glad he made her laugh.

Brother Zachariah finished removing all of the glass shards, cleaned off the dried blood, and carved a powerful  _ iratze _ on her skin. Relief washed over her immediately and she watched as the tiny wounds closed up one by one. He then discharged her from the infirmary with a clean bill of health. Upon walking out into the corridor, she was surprised to see Hodge and Raphael there. They seemed to be having a civilized conversation rather than a bitter confrontation.

“Was a peace treaty signed or are we still discussing the terms?” Eva teased. They both looked over, the same wave of relief overtaking them in a second.

“I would call it a cease-fire,” Raphael said dryly. Eva noted the mug in his hands, now empty, and could only assume Hodge brewed him a tisane as a gesture of goodwill. “You’re okay?”

“Brother Zachariah did a good job,” Eva showed them her arm. Surprisingly, there was no scarring left behind from the glass shards. “But I’m exhausted. I want to take a shower and go to sleep.”

“You’re welcome to sleep through the day here until sundown,” Hodge said to Raphael. “You took an enormous risk walking around in broad daylight where anyone could’ve seen you.” 

“I will forever appreciate your chivalry, Rapha,” Eva hugged his arm playfully. “My room is upstairs—”

“Absolutely not.” Hodge’s tone was clipped and Eva fought hard not to laugh. She knew Hodge would respond that way, and she knew Raphael was aware she was teasing him; she didn’t need to be a natural empath to sense her boyfriend’s exasperation.

* * *

Hodge led Raphael to a spare room in the Institute, purposefully giving him one on a different floor and taking the longest route to get there. The boy simply thanked him and disappeared into the room, closing the door behind him. Hodge knew Eva was more than capable of bribing Church with a chunk of fish in exchange for directions to Raphael’s room, but he tried not to think about that. Hodge was aware that Eva was an adult now, and he can’t set curfews or put down as many rules as he once did, but he’ll do whatever he can to do what he thought was best for her. He does; however, find solace in the genuine feelings Raphael has for her and his willingness to risk his secret and assault a Shadowhunter for Eva’s sake. The poor boy was most likely at war with the New York werewolf pack all because of Jace and Jocelyn Morgenstern’s daughter Clary.

Valentine. The mere thought of the man made his stomach drop to the pits of Hell and ice run in his veins. Hodge has always been looking over his shoulder, horrified of the day that evil man might return, of the day he’ll wage war against the Clave and exterminate Downworlders. 

Of the day he’ll find out about Hodge’s betrayal.

_ Hodge Starkweather. _

Hodge had been so lost in thought, he didn’t even notice Brother Zachariah’s presence looming before him like a hooded ghost.  _ Brother Enoch and I told Raphael Santiago as much as the oath would allow us to say. He deserved some sort of warning regarding the powers he unknowingly acquired that day. _

“He came to his own conclusions,” Hodge said thoughtfully. “He believes Nephilim blood gives Daylighters their power.”

_ The blood of angels is strong, _ Brother Zachariah said.  _ The first vampire to drink pure angel blood had the ability to bear children—  _

The look Hodge shot his way cut off his words abruptly. If Hodge knew any better, he’d say Zachariah was startled by the fury burning in his eyes.  _ I assure you her blood is not that pure. At least not yet. _

* * *

“I thought about breaking it to summon you,” Eva giggled, playing with the hourglass on her throat. “A vampiric booty call.”

Raphael rolled his eyes in amusement but said nothing. The warmth of her naked body against his was lulling him to sleep—after all, it’s way past his bedtime. His head was on her chest, her heart thumping against his ear like a distant murmur. With every gentle breath, his head would rise, and then it would float back down with every exhale. If he needed to breathe, he would be sighing deeply from how good her fingers in his hair felt. Just the smell of her fresh out of the shower was soothing—of hot water, of pomegranates and peppermint with a hint of coconuts. 

“Never in my life did I think I’d be led around by a cat,” Raphael said through a yawn. “Is he some type of magical cat?”

“I don’t know, but he’s immortal,” she said. “And he really likes Brother Zachariah for some reason.”

Raphael hummed, his body loosening as sleep began to seduce him. Eva brushed locks of his hair from his forehead to press a kiss there. “Go to sleep; I’ll handle Hodge if he breaks in here.”

Raphael let out a groan. “ _ Dios me libre y me ampare. _ ”


	18. Et tu, Brute?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because betrayal is a stab to the gut.

They were all shocked when Clary found out how ingeniously her mother had managed to hide the Mortal Cup. Jocelyn used a rune they’d never seen before and placed the Mortal Cup inside one of the tarot cards she created for a deck. Clary recalled her mother giving them to their neighbor, a mundane named Madame Dorothea, and after they all geared up and grabbed their weapons, they headed out in the rain to Clary’s brownstone in Brooklyn. 

It was shocking to see Clary draw the long lost Mortal Cup from a tarot card as if she were a magician pulling a rabbit out of a top hat. Their relief in finding it didn’t last too long, however. Madame Dorothea had one of the few Portals in New York City in her living room and upon opening it, a demon emerged from it and killed her instantly. They all managed to run out into the foyer and out of the apartment, but the demon was too fast. It cornered them in the hallway, its overwhelming stench of garbage and rotting flesh making it hard not to gag. 

“I am Abbadon. I am the Demon of the Abyss. Mine are the empty places between the worlds. Mine is the wind and the howling darkness. I am as unlike those mewling things you call  _ demons  _ as an eagle is unlike a fly. You cannot hope to defeat me. Give me the Cup or die.”

“A Greater Demon,” Eva felt a chill run through her body and settle in the pit of her stomach. The scar on her abdomen burned as a reminder of what it meant to face a Greater Demon. Eva met Isabelle’s horrified glance, shocked to see her  _ parabatai _ pale in fright.

Of course Jace resorted to taunting Abbadon, calling it ugly and saying it smelled like a landfill in Staten Island. Predictably, Abbadon lunged for Jace continuously, ignoring Izzy’s whip lashes, Alec’s arrows, and Eva’s chakrams. They only received some sort of reaction from it when Alec got in its way, piercing it with his feather staff. To their horror, Abbadon’s talons caught Alec, lifted him off the ground, and tossed him like a ragdoll across the corridor in a sickening crunch. When Izzy dashed towards her brother, Eva ran after her, but Abbadon was faster and backhanded them, sending them spinning onto the ground. Izzy stood up, but the demon struck her down again. 

“Izzy...” Eva groaned, feeling her muscles screaming from the blow. She saw the demon head for Clary but seeing Jace was there to protect her, she began to crawl towards her  _ parabatai _ lying unmoving on the ground. Eva reached into her belt for her stele and quickly carved an  _ iratze _ on Izzy’s arm. The girl immediately sprung up with a jolt of energy and took Eva’s stele to return the favor with another  _ iratze _ . 

Simon ended up killing Abbadon against all odds. He shot an arrow into the skylight, letting shafts of sunlight beam through and burn the Greater Demon out of their world. Only scorch marks were left behind to show where it once stood. 

Alec was still unconscious, and if it wasn’t for his shallow breathing, one would say he was dead. Jace cut open his shirt and cursed under his breath. “Damn it! There’s demon poison in him!”

They carried Alec into Simon’s van and sped through the streets like hell was chasing them. Izzy was squeezing Eva’s hand, desperately trying to keep it together, but Eva knew Izzy was at her breaking point. She had a scare once with her own  _ parabatai _ , and now her brother was in the same predicament, and they didn’t have Raphael here to halt the effects of the demon poison with his saliva.

When they arrived at the Institute, Jace carried Alec to the infirmary where Hodge was waiting for them, ready to do what he could. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much their tutor could do other than sedate him.

“I have to contact the Silent Brothers—I’ve done what I can to make him comfortable,” Hodge said, cleaning his bloody hands on a damp rag. Izzy didn’t look up nor did she respond; she was clutching onto her brother’s hand as if someone was going to take him away if she didn’t. Eva was at her side with a hand on her shoulder. 

“Jace and Clary are out in the hallway,” Eva said softly, looking at Hodge. “Jace is probably blaming himself.”

“As usual.” Hodge shook his head before he turned on his heel and left the infirmary. Through the open door, she saw Jace and Clary went along with him to summon the Silent Brothers. 

“It’s going to be alright,” Eva said. Isabelle didn’t move. “He’s going to be fine. I know it.”

“Just shut up,” Izzy’s voice was wavering and her shoulders began to shake with silent sobs. Eva clenched her jaw and walked around to the other side of Alec’s bed, drew a chair in, and sat down. Like Izzy, she took his hand and squeezed lightly.

Alec’s emotions spoke to her through their touch. He was unconscious, but his mind was functioning. It was bursting with joy at having killed Abbadon, despite being a lie Clary told him before he was knocked out. He was self-aware of his injury and frustrated that he was reckless enough to get wounded like this. There was a tinge of acceptance—an acceptance that this might be the end for him—and the grief of knowing what his loss would do to his parents, to his sister and younger brother, to his  _ parabatai _ , to Eva, to Hodge. 

_ No, don’t you dar _ e, Eva fed her irritation through to him, and to her surprise, Alec’s acceptance of death disappeared almost instantly and was replaced with hope. Eva smiled softly.

“He’s fighting, Izzy,” Eva said. Izzy raised her head to look at her, her brown eyes glossy with tears. “He’s not giving up on us.”

Eva didn’t know how long she was sitting there, watching Alec’s wounded chest rise and fall with steady breaths, hearing Izzy’s sniffles as she held back tears. Rapid footsteps in the corridor echoed into the infirmary, getting closer and closer before Hodge appeared at the doorway. He looked as if he’d seen something terrifying; he was pale, sweat was beading on his forehead, and his eyes were wide and frenzied. 

“Eva, come here.” His tone was firm. It was usually the tone he used when he was scolding them. Eva glanced at Izzy, who met her glance with a shrug. The girls jumped when Hodge raised his voice, “ _ Now _ , Eva!” 

The agitation and paranoia buzzing out of Hodge suffocated Eva as she neared him. He was skittish and his muscles were tense under his suit, making the tweed look tight on his slender body. When she was at the doorframe, he took her arm and dragged her outside into the hallway.

“We have to leave  _ right now, _ ” he said. His touch was sending shockwaves through her—his terror became hers, and it was making her pulse jump and her heart accelerate. Her hands began to tremble and if it wasn’t for him holding her up, her knees would’ve dropped her to the ground like a sack of bricks. What was he so scared of? Where were Clary and Jace?

“What’s going on?” Eva was surprised her words were steady; she was shivering as if the room temperature dropped fifty degrees.

“I’ll explain later,” Hodge said. He began leading her through the corridors, down the stairs, and to the Institute’s front entrance. Eva was speechless when he threw open the door and stepped out into the courtyard. The curse the Clave placed on him following the Uprising would’ve hurt him, and yet, here they were hurrying down the sidewalk towards the intersection up ahead. 

“Hodge!” Eva yanked her arm away from him. Just then, she noticed his hand was covered in what she could only describe as soot. “How did you leave the Institute? What about the curse?”

“It was lifted.” He reached for her wrist and once he had a firm grip, he began crossing the intersection. “We have to go into hiding, or else Valentine might—”

“Valentine?” Eva frowned incredulously. “What does he have to do with any of this?”

He abruptly took a turn into a narrow service alley darkened by the incoming of twilight. It was dead-ended by a fast-food restaurant and the heaps of black trash bags piled up against the wall was evident of that. Eva’s nose wrinkled at the smell wafting around her.

“You shouldn’t have followed me,” Hodge said. When Eva turned, she saw none other than Clary standing before them in the alley, her bright red hair sweat plastered on her face and neck, her pale cheeks rivaling it in color from how flushed she was. Her green eyes were sharp and furious.

“You’re going to hand Eva over to Valentine too?” she cried. “You traitor! We trusted you!”

“What the hell is going on?” Eva fought against Hodge’s grip on her wrist, but it was strong as a bear trap. When she saw the flash of a blade in Hodge’s free hand, Eva froze. He showed off his chakram at Clary in hopes of deterring her, but the girl stood her ground.

“He tricked us into finding the Mortal Cup for him!” Clary pointed a finger accusingly. “And then he summoned Valentine and gave it to him and let him take Jace! He said it himself—he’s  _ Valentine’s man! _ ”

“It’s not what it sounds like, Eva,” Hodge looked down at her with pleading eyes. “I had to do it so he could lift my curse—”

“Let go of me!” Eva clawed at his hand, tears rolling down her cheeks. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. It couldn’t be true! The always reliable Hodge, the man who took it upon himself to be like a father to her, to dote on her, to teach her how to use the chakram he was threatening Clary with, the man that read to her and then tucked her into bed like she was his daughter. It hurt her to claw at his wrist viciously, but when he let her go with a hiss, she didn’t expect him to, and she fell back on the pavement. She barely felt it. 

“Eva, please!” He took a step forward, reaching for her with his now bloody hand, but Eva scampered away from him in horror. She hated that she felt how much it hurt him to see her look so frightened; it hurt him like a stab in the soul. “I did this for you; I need to protect you—”

“You helped Valentine!” Clary said. “You let him have Jace!”

Hodge flung the chakram at Clary, nearly missing her head as she ducked quickly; the disk embedded itself into a nearby fire escape railing. He turned to Eva, again, his soot-covered hand extending towards her as if he were a gentleman asking her for a dance. “Eva, please. Just come with me, and I’ll try to explain everything.”

“Get away from me!” Eva reached for an empty beer bottle at her side and hurled it. He ducked and the bottle exploded to pieces against the brick wall behind him. Eva was furious and the gnawing feeling of betrayal was making her nauseous. “You coward! I don’t ever want to see you again!”

A low growl erupted from down the alley before a six-foot long jet black wolf jumped in between the girls and Hodge. His lips were drawn back viciously while his pointed ears were folded back into his long head closely. His claws were razor-sharp and his black fur streaked in grey was standing straight up.

“ _ You _ ,” Hodge breathed in furious disbelief. “Did you come for me, or for Clary?”

The wolf lunged at Hodge and the two began to wrestle on the pavement. Eva had managed to get on her feet just as Hodge dug his chakram into the wolf’s side, blood pooling around them, but the wolf managed to get a blow in and Hodge’s blood sprayed into the air like a shaken can of soda. 

Eva’s adrenaline finally decided to kick in and she dashed for Clary, grabbed her hand and ran out of the alley. Just as they were about to step out onto the sidewalk, Eva was jerked back with Clary’s dead weight. She whirled back to see Clary sprawled on the pavement, knocked unconscious from her fall, and the werewolf crouched over her body protectively. His fangs were exposed and he looked ready to pounce on her if she so much as moved an inch towards Clary.

Eva didn’t care about Clary, or what the werewolf wanted with her. She didn’t care about what happened to Hodge, if he was bleeding out in the alley or if he was dead. She didn’t care about Izzy in the Institute or Alec dying, or where Valentine had taken Jace. She didn’t care about anything or anyone. She simply turned on her heel and ran down the street, elbowing and shoving anyone that got in her way, faintly hearing the honks of cars as she ran in front of them or climbed over their hoods as they drove by. She ran as far and as fast as she could aimlessly. She didn’t know where she was when her lungs began to feel the burn of her exertion. Her muscles screamed at her to stop running and when she finally did, she collapsed against the brick wall of an abandoned factory. The air was hot and only then did she realize night had fallen over New York City. 

Eva reached for the hourglass on her throat and pulled the chain hard enough for it to snap off. She threw it hard against the pavement, making the simple glass shatter and disperse the dirt inside. The bubble of frustration and hurt and despair finally burst in her chest and the world seemed to come down on her all at once. She hugged her legs against her chest tightly, buried her face into her knees, and began to cry.

“Eva!” Raphael’s voice sung in her ears, but she couldn’t stop crying. He pulled her away from her knees and held her face in his cold hands, his eyes wide with confusion as they scanned her for injuries. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

She couldn’t form words. She threw her arms around him and brought him close to her, relieved to have a familiar comfort but it only made her weep harder. His arms circled around her, returning her embrace tightly. He was whispering soothing words to her, but she paid them no attention. She couldn’t. She couldn’t bring herself to stop crying. She couldn’t believe Hodge did what he did. She couldn’t believe she abandoned Clary. She couldn’t believe she didn’t care for Izzy or for Alec or for Jace at this moment. 

She simply didn’t care. 


	19. Beth Israel Hospital

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eva might just be a telepath.

Eva hasn’t stepped foot inside the Institute for two weeks; she refused to. Instead, she stayed with Raphael in his suite at the Dumort. The first few days since Hodge’s betrayal, she cried herself to sleep. Raphael would try his best to soothe her, but she was inconsolable. He merely let her be, keeping her at arm’s distance but giving her space. He’d bring her food and horchata, but she’d eat minimally and lost a bit of weight as a result. Raphael thought that the news of Jace being saved from Valentine’s clutches and Alec being healed by Magnus would perk her up, but it didn’t do much during that first week. 

“Thanks.” Raphael took the canvas bag from Isabelle containing some of Eva’s clothing and bottles of her hair products. Isabelle was careful to pick out the ones Eva had bought at stores rather than the ones Hodge would make for her. 

“It’s hitting her hard; she thought of Hodge like a dad,” Izzy said, touching her  _ parabatai _ rune on her bicep subconsciously. “We all were close to him, but Hodge always had a soft spot for her.”

“To think I should’ve punched him this whole time.” Raphael let his shoulders slump. “At least she’s eating regularly.”

“She’s feeling better now—I know she is,” Izzy reassured him. She’s been coming to the Dumort every few days to bring Raphael clothes for Eva and to see her. While Eva wasn’t crying anymore, the spark that usually made her golden eyes gleam was extinguished. It hurt Raphael to see her like this, and he couldn’t imagine how Isabelle must feel. “She just needs time. Eva’s much more emotional than I am so it takes her a while to get back to normal. I’m glad you’re taking care of her.”

Raphael watched her disappear down the street before he walked back inside the Dumort. He swiftly climbed the stairs of the old hotel, passing some vampires that quickly stepped out of his way. Eva’s state was making Raphael incredibly irritable, and thankfully, his clan was on their best behavior. They didn’t want him to take his anger out on them.

He walked into his suite on one of the upper floors of the hotel, previously called the royal suite back in the 1920’s when it was still used by mundanes. Despite the ground floors and the outside of the Dumort looking dilapidated, the rooms and suites were in perfect condition with modern furniture and running water. The only thing they didn’t have was centralized AC or heaters; vampires had no use for it. 

Eva was lying on her side on his large bed, hugging one of his pillows, and facing the television propped up inside a wooden TV cabinet. As usual, the signal was terrible and the image on the screen was grainy at best and buzzed with static every now and again. Raphael recognized it as reruns of the sitcom  _ Cheers _ . 

“ _ Vamos _ .” Raphael clapped his hands to get her attention. He reached for the remote and turned off the TV, making Eva groan playfully. Raphael tugged the covers off her, revealing her in a pair of panties and one of his button-down shirts. “ _ Al baño. Ahora _ .”

Eva usually puts off washing her hair too often because her curls would dry out if she did. She’d put it off for too long now; her curls were frizzy and undefined and tangled. Eva had it twisted up into a bun to keep it all in one place. 

She followed Raphael into his pristine bathroom and he ran the bath for her, making sure the water was to her liking. She then stepped in, a sigh leaving her lips at the feel of the water seeping into her bones and relaxing her. Raphael took a seat on a stool he dragged over, rolled up his sleeves, and began running jets of water from the showerhead on her thick tresses. After properly soaking her hair, he began working up a lather with the shampoo Izzy brought for him and began massaging her scalp gently.

“Izzy was thoughtful,” Eva said. Her eyes were closed and a small smile paraded her lips. “She didn’t bring anything Hodge made me.”

Raphael squirted another glob of the coconut-scented shampoo onto his palm. “She’s worried for you.”

“I know she is,” she said, reaching up to tap her fingers against her  _ parabatai _ rune under her right collarbone. “I’m feeling a lot better, though. Did you tell her that?”

“She knows.” Raphael took the showerhead and rinsed the suds off her hair. He now reached for the conditioner and began to work it into her hair. Her thick curls immediately began to spring into their natural Botticelli spirals; each strand felt like silk between his slender fingers. “She understands the way you handle things.”

“Izzy has the amazing ability to bottle things up; I’ve always been jealous of that,” Eva sighed as he detangled her hair with his fingers. “I hate that I spiral downwards into a pit.”

“But you climb out of it and get stronger,” Raphael said. “When you bottle things up, it starts to eat away at you until there’s nothing left, or until you explode. It happened to me when I first Turned, and I didn’t have peace of mind until I finally accepted it.”

Eva hummed, tilting her head back as he rinsed her hair of the conditioner. “I think I’m ready to go back to the Institute; it’ll hurt, but I have to be strong.”

Raphael combed her hair with his fingers as water ran through them, making sure he didn’t miss any tangles. Feeling nothing but silky curls, he asked lightly, “Now, do you want me to bathe you too, or can the big baby do it herself?”

“You should join me,” she laughed. “When’s the last time you had a bath? Thirty years?”

“I bathe every few days.” Dirt and grime never really was an issue for vampires, and neither was body odor and greasy hair. Raphael bathed simply because of his own fastidious nature. “I don’t have to, but I do.”

“Yes, and then drown yourself in  _ Bleu de Chanel _ .”

“It’s my signature,” he smirked. “When you smell that cologne, you know it’s me, the same way smelling coconuts and gardenias reminds me of you.”

Eva leaned over the edge of the porcelain bathtub and brought him in for a soft kiss. Raphael immediately melted into it; he hasn’t kissed her in so long. Eva pulled away from him, her words breathless against his lips, “Thank you, Rapha. For everything.”

“I’d bring down Heaven for you,  _ mi angelito _ ,” he kissed her again. 

* * *

Eva felt strange as she walked down the Institute’s courtyard. The sun had set over Manhattan and the streetlights illuminated its enormous pillars and cast shadows over each intricate gothic design. The gardens were blooming bright green and summer flowers dotted bushes and grass. Eva couldn’t help but think of Hodge.

“ _ Cambia esa cara _ ,” Raphael squeezed her hand playfully. Eva smiled; it was eerie how in tune he was with her. 

The doors of the Institute opened just as they approached the front porch revealing Izzy dressed in a tank top and jeans with heeled boots. Her ink black hair was loose over her shoulders and when she brought Eva in for a tight hug, her familiar scent of vanilla overwhelmed Eva in the best of ways. She was home.

“I told you she was better,” Izzy said to Raphael who stood there watching them with his hands in his pockets. “You want to come inside?”

“No, I’ve had enough of Eva,” Raphael smirked, making his girlfriend giggle. “You can have her.”

“I love you too, Rapha.” Eva wrapped her arms around his neck and planted a kiss on his lips. He let out a scoff in response, nodded a curt farewell at Izzy, and walked down the courtyard before flying away on his motorcycle. 

“He acts all tough but he worships the ground you walk on,” Izzy rolled her eyes. “Men turn into such saps when they’re in love, it’s pathetic.”

“I think it’s cute,” Eva said, following her into the elevator. “One day you’ll find a guy that’ll worship you, and when that happens, you won’t think it’s so pathetic.”

“Yeah, right,” she tossed her hair back with a pinched frown. “That’ll be the day I stop wearing heels and eyeliner.”

Just like old times, the  _ parabatai  _ pair threw themselves on Izzy’s bed and talked. Usually, they talked about girl things like fashion or boys and sometimes they talked about personal things like they did tonight. The word about Hodge’s betrayal spread quickly, and even though Jace purposefully kept that detail out when he returned from Renwick’s with Clary and Luke’s werewolf pack, Eva’s sudden disappearance made Izzy frantic for the truth. Thankfully, the first person she called was Raphael and he explained everything—about Hodge, about what happened in the alleyway, about Eva crying her eyes out and not wanting to be within spitting distance of the Institute. 

“The Clave ransacked Hodge’s room and took everything,” Izzy said, tilting her head back as Eva brushed out the knots in her hair with a comb. “Mom says they’re trying to track him down.”

“What do you think they’ll do if they find him?”

“Arrest him, probably,” Izzy shrugged her shoulders. “I honestly don’t know.”

Eva began sectioning large chunks of hair. “Valentine lifted his curse in exchange for the Mortal Cup and then he wanted to go into hiding with me—he said he did it for  _ me _ .”

“He could’ve lied.”

“He didn’t get Alec or you to come with him, and he left Clary in the library and let Valentine take Jace,” Eva recalled. She was trying not to lose her concentration as she threaded a fishtail braid out of Izzy’s straight locks. “Why would he do that?”

“I guess if they capture him, they’ll question him with the Mortal Sword,” Izzy said. Eva knew she was compartmentalizing her emotions, tossing aside the ones she didn’t need and replacing them with aloofness. Izzy was just as heartbroken Hodge betrayed them to Valentine and then ran away, and was equally confused about Hodge specifically wanting Eva to go into hiding with him, but didn’t show it in the slightest.

Perhaps it was easier just to push aside all the unanswered questions, Eva thought. It was easier to keep your sanity that way.

The strangest thing Eva missed while she was hiding away in the Dumort was finding out Clary and Jace were siblings—the children of Valentine and Jocelyn Morgentern. Eva felt bad for the girl; her unrealistic mundane world came crashing down on her all at once with more and more secrets her mother kept from her coming to light: being Valentine’s daughter, being a Shadowhunter, having a brother, having a warlock to erase her memories, finding out the man that raised her, Luke Garroway—Lucian Graymark—was a former Shadowhunter but was now a werewolf. 

And yet, Clary Fray was pushing forward despite the whirlwind of emotions raging war inside her. Like Izzy, Clary was doing a good job of bottling it all up and instead of sulking around, she was trying to get answers to her endless questions. Eva respected her immensely for it and approached her one day when she visited the Institute.

“How’re you doing? How’s your mom?”

“I’m doing alright; just getting used to it all.” Clary brushed her bright red hair out of her face. “My mom’s still in the hospital and she hasn’t woken up—it’s like a coma.”

“I have this weird ability to sense people’s emotions,” Eva began, almost embarrassed to admit such a thing. It certainly wasn’t normal. “When I touch them, I can get a bit of a glimpse into their thoughts. I did it with Alec when he was unconscious after Abbadon poisoned him, so I thought I could help and see if I can get you some answers.”

The appreciation that burst from Clary like a blossoming flower made Eva smile sadly. How wonderful must it be to have a mother to love so much. Eva would never know such a feeling. 

Clary and Eva took the subway to Beth Israel Hospital where Jocelyn was. Eva has seen mundane hospitals depicted in  _ A corazón abierto,  _ one of Raphael’s sappy telenovelas, but she’d never actually been inside one herself. It was very cold and the white-washed hallways seemed endless and packed with patients, family members, nurses, and doctors. 

Jocelyn’s room was spacious and lit with natural light from the open window. Despite the brightness, Luke was in a deep sleep and curled up rather uncomfortably in an armchair in the corner of the room. It shocked Eva to find out that the werewolf in the alley that fought Hodge was him, but despite having wounded Hodge in their scuffle, Clary told her Luke didn’t find him in the alley when he returned. 

“He’s knocked out,” Clary said with a smile. 

Eva took a seat on the edge of Jocelyn’s bed. She looked almost like a wax figure; she was motionless apart from the slow rise and fall of her chest and the occasional flicker of her eyes underneath her pale lids. Her bright red hair was scattered over the pillow, creating a furious halo against the white sheets. Clary looked exactly like Jocelyn, from her hair to her jawline to her flawless skin and her small frame. Eva wondered briefly if she looked like her own mother, or if she looked more like her father, whoever they were. She tried not to think about it.

Eva took Jocelyn’s cold hand in her own and closed her eyes. Like she did with Alec and Brother Zachariah, she focused on her touch, trying to reach deep into her soul and into the emotions that swirled around like the threads of steam in a hot mug of tea. 

_ Clary is fine _ , Eva tried to convey the message as best she could, hoping it would induce some sort of reaction.  _ She’s here with Luke, and they never leave your side _ .

To her surprise, Jocelyn’s response fed through their touch: acknowledgement and relief. Eva smiled to herself.  _ You’re aware of your surroundings? You can hear when Luke and Clary talk to you? _

Acknowledgement.

Eva doesn’t really know how she’s deciphering these emotions into language. Then again, the Silent Brothers communicate with thoughts. Eva pressed on.  _ Can you wake up? _

The burst of emotions was hard to understand, but Eva boiled it down to a cross between frustration and uselessness. It was obvious Jocelyn didn’t like to be a sitting duck. Eva couldn’t help but point out,  _ Your daughter is exactly like you, Jocelyn Fray. _

If Jocelyn were awake, she would’ve laughed but since she couldn’t, their empathic link made Eva laugh in her stead. The room was quiet until she did so and it made Clary jump in surprise. Luke only shifted in the armchair and continued to snooze. 

“That was your mother laughing, believe or not,” Eva said.

“You’re  _ talking  _ to her?” Clary’s jaw dropped. “What’s she saying? How can we wake her up?”

“It’s hard to understand—I’m still learning how to do this.” Eva placed Jocelyn’s hand down at her side gently. “But she’s fully aware of what’s going on around her. She can hear you and Luke and she’s listening to us right now.”

“So she’s okay?” Clary asked. “She’s all there?”

“It would seem so,” Eva smiled. “She’s so grateful you’re safe, Clary. That’s all she worries about.”

“Oh, I know,” Clary said bitterly, the resentment pulsing from her suffocating Eva despite being quite a distance from her. “I’d say she worries  _ too _ much.”

“Don’t take it for granted,” Eva said. “I never knew my parents—I don’t know if they’re dead, or if they abandoned me, but I would give anything to have a mother or a father to fuss over me.”

After Clary thanked her for her help, Eva walked out of the room and close the door just a bit to block out the ruckus from the hallway. She took a left turn and began heading towards the elevator lobby, stopping occasionally to let nurses wheel patients around in wheelchairs or gurneys. Eva wasn’t paying much attention to the sea of mundane faces around her until a nurse abruptly stopped and made Eva bump into her side. 

“Marigold?”

The nurse was dressed in medical scrubs with bright red fire trucks printed on them. Her skin was a tone or two darker than Eva’s, her eyes were wide in shock and a deep blue, and her hair was black and pulled up into a ponytail. To Eva’s shock, she didn’t have the chance to take a good look at her; the woman was halfway down the hallway in the amount of time it took her to bat an eye. Before the nurse could disappear into the crowd of doctors and patients, Eva noticed the shimmer of a very strong glamour around her.

Shrugging, Eva continued on her way to the elevators. 


	20. The Language of Emotions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Silent Brothers have competition.

“I hate all of you Shadowhunters.”

“Yeah, sometimes I hate us too.” 

Raphael was rightfully angry, so much so he couldn’t even focus on his telenovelas. He was sitting up against the headboard staring at the screen, but Eva knew he wasn’t paying attention to the Mexican drama. Her body was still tingling from the very angry sex they had not too long ago—it was intense, and Eva surely didn’t mind it, but it was strange coming from Raphael. He was normally so agonizingly slow and patient and loving, but she had to admit she welcomed his frustration. She was angry too, and it worked out in their favor.

“They always blame us,” Raphael continued bitterly. “If the Silent Brothers had been drained of blood, they would’ve tacked that onto our list of crimes too.”

Downworlder killings had everyone on edge. Each body had been drained completely of blood, which naturally pointed to the Night Children as the likely suspects. Raphael has projected himself into the Institute more times than he was comfortable with to speak to Maryse and Inquisitor Imogen Herondale—though these meetings were more interrogations than anything. The Inquisitor even subtly threatened him, reminding him what the Clave does to vampires who break the Law. 

“Valentine is behind all this,” Eva reached out to touch his arm in silent affection. His muscles were tense like tightly wound guitar strings. “He went into the Silent City to steal the Mortal Sword and had to kill them all to do it—Magnus says it’s some conversion ritual.”

“Well, they surely haven’t gotten any solid proof,” he said. “Your Inquisitor is still giving me grief over all this.”

“I know, trust me,” Eva rolled her eyes at the thought of that old hag—she’s the reason behind her bitterness. “First, she throws Jace into the cells of the Silent City, then she interrogates us like we had anything to do with murdering the Silent Brothers when we were just answering their distress call, and now she has Jace under house arrest with Magnus.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but God help him,” Raphael said, making Eva laugh. Magnus didn’t seem like an easy person to live with due to his extravagant tastes, but Jace wasn’t exactly the friendliest roommate either. Raphael followed her with gentle eyes, watching her jump out of bed and start to dress herself. “Be careful with those Faeries,  _ mi ángel _ . Nothing good ever comes out of that Seelie Queen.”

“Izzy’s dating one of her knights, so she’s mediating,” Eva buttoned up her jeans. “I have no idea what the Queen could want; Izzy just said she’s requested an audience.”

“Like I said, nothing good.”

* * *

“That Meliorn is an asshole; I don’t want to see you anywhere near him,” Eva said. She sat cross-legged on Izzy’s bed, watching as she emerged from the bathroom and crossed the room to sit at her vanity.

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” she scoffed. Venturing into the Seelie Court didn’t go very well, and in typical Faerie fashion, the Queen managed to trick Clary into tasting the wine. A kiss from the person she wanted the most would release her, and said person happened to be Jace—her brother with whom she clearly had feelings for. The intense kiss upset Simon, who had gone down to the Seelie Court with them, and he stormed off before anyone could notice. Izzy suggested returning to the Institute first, seeing how it was deserted, for a much deserved shower and a change of clothes.

_ Everything went horribly but we’re all fine. _

Eva eyed the message she’d sent on her taxi ride to the Institute from Central Park. It was unlike Raphael not to text her back, even though she knew he’d respond something along the lines of  _ I don’t care about the rest of them, only you _ or just a simple  _ Okay _ .

He hasn’t responded. Considering the entire Conclave was down in the Silent City gathering clues and were still investigating the Downworlder murders, Eva could only assume Raphael was caught up in that whirlwind.

The sound of the Institute’s doorbell had the  _ parabatai _ pair frowning at each other in confusion. If the Conclave was returning, they wouldn’t be ringing the doorbell—only mundanes and Downworlders needed permission to enter.

They arrived at the Institute’s foyer along with Jace and Clary, and when they opened the door, the figure standing just outside the doors stepped through the threshold. It was Raphael, and in his arms he carried a very limp and quite dead-looking Simon Lewis. The mundane’s throat and wrists were torn open and blood was splattered over his graphic T-shirt.

Raphael’s expression was pinched in a frown as he set Simon down gently on the floor. Clary immediately threw herself onto her knees by his side. She was paler than usual. When Raphael raised his glance, he looked annoyed, as if this was an inconvenience. To Eva; however, she knew he was feeling an immense amount of guilt. It was floating around him like heavy smoke.

“He broke into the Dumort and was therefore fair game for my clan,” Raphael said. “He was lucky that I arrived before they could drink him to death. I brought him here because I want no war with the Nephilim, especially not now.”

“But he’s dead,” Clary choked on her words. 

“Not dead yet,” Raphael met Eva’s eyes as he continued, “When he was a rat, he bit me at the Dumort. He ingested my blood, and that is how vampires pass on their powers—through the blood.”

Simon had to be buried and rise as a vampire, or have his head cut off, staked, and burned. Clary made the final decision, and decided on the former. It was hard to know what Simon would have wanted in a situation like this. Clary insisted he be buried in a Jewish cemetery.

The emotions floating around Eva were choking her—it was a smog of grief, guilt, sadness, terror, despair. When they arrived at the Jewish cemetery in Queens, Raphael began digging a shallow grave at an inhuman pace. Simon’s body was wrapped up in a blanket and was laid at Izzy’s feet; Eva thought it looked as if Izzy were guarding him. Alec had arrived with Magnus, bringing with him a bag full of packets of blood like Jace had requested him to do.

“It’s freezing,” Clary said, her breath creating a white mist around her lips. Simon’s body was already underground and Raphael, after tapping the earth with his shovel for good measure, had joined their little huddle near the makeshift grave. “It’s the middle of summer; it shouldn’t be this cold out.”

“Fledglings draw strength from the living things in their surroundings and use that energy to rise.” Raphael shrugged off his leather jacket and draped it over Eva’s shoulders. She was thankful he did so. “It’s always cold at risings; it doesn’t bother me at all considering I’m undead as it is.”

Clary went mute after that. Jace tried to comfort her, but she was inconsolable. Izzy stood alongside Alec and Magnus, who seemed both fascinated and horrified by what was to occur before them. Eva was about to join her _ parabatai _ but Raphael suddenly took her hand and pulled her out of earshot from the rest. Before she could open her mouth to speak, he said, “I never beg, and I hate the thought of it, but I’m begging you to leave.”

His touch was feeding her his emotions and they were making her eyes sting. He avoided her glance as he continued, “I don’t want you to see this. It’s not pleasant to see a vampire rise: it’s messy and inhuman and—”

“You don’t want me to imagine that’s how you looked when you rose from your grave,” Eva finished for him. His big brown eyes widened in shock and horror. She squeezed his hand. “I’ve been feeling your guilt ever since you brought Simon to the Institute, but it wasn’t your fault he ingested your blood. I didn’t even think he had; he bit you so quickly.”

“The blood should’ve left his system by now, but it didn’t,” he said bitterly. “I feel bad for the mundane—no one deserves this life.”

“You have a good heart in you, Rapha,” Eva wrapped her arms around his neck and brought him in for a tight hug. He buried his face into her neck and returned her embrace; his tense muscles relaxed bit by bit as she held him. “I love you, and I will never stop loving you even if you looked like a monster coming out of your grave.”

“That’s very reassuring,” he said lightly, parting from her enough to touch her new pendant of his grave dirt on her throat. “You’ve become quite good at the backhanded compliments.”

“I learned from the best,” she said and kissed his cold cheek. 

They returned just in time to see Simon’s grave rumble like an earthquake. Like a stereotypical zombie from those strange mundane comics Max likes to read, Simon clawed himself out of the dirt. He wore no glasses and his brown eyes were wide with confusion and frenzy, his skinny arms smeared with dirt and blood. He was hunched over the ground after having fallen; it was like watching a baby giraffe taking its first steps.

Despite Raphael trying to hold Clary back, the girl broke free from his grasp and tried to talk to Simon. The moment she reached for him; however, Simon turned on her. He pushed her onto the ground savagely, holding her down by the shoulders. The girl was kicking him in terror, but Simon’s newfound vampire strength kept her anchored underneath him. If it wasn’t for Raphael grabbing Simon’s collar and tossing him across the graveyard like a ragdoll, Eva knew Simon was more than capable of sucking Clary dry of blood.

“I told you to stay away from him,” Raphael said. He briefly caught Eva’s glance, searching her face for what she assumed was disgust or horror. It was hard not to think of fledgling Raphael doubling over like Simon was, hissing like a rabid and starving cat. She managed to keep her expression neutral, perhaps even a bit shocked. Raphael looked back at Clary as he added, “He knows you, but he doesn’t care. He’s starving and he needs blood as soon as possible.”

When Jace, who looked like he’d seen a ghost, handed him the plastic bag of blood packets, Raphael began tearing them open. One by one, he handed them to Simon who took each one eagerly and drained them quickly. He was desperate for the blood, and in his desperation would spill some of it over his chin and over his chest, making it soak into his shirt and stain it. 

Clary hurried down the hill with Jace chasing after her. Eva faintly heard the sound of her retching in the distance. She focused on watching Simon drinking blood bag after blood bag, with Raphael cautioning him to slow down or he’d feel sick. Izzy took her hand and squeezed it in silent horror, Alec tried to keep himself from emptying his stomach like Clary, and Magnus’ expression was a cross between fascination and disgust. 

Simon’s bloodlust calmed significantly after his seventh or eighth packet of blood and he was able to think straight. Raphael explained what happened to him as nicely as he could and when Clary returned, she apologized profusely, but Simon didn’t respond. Eva could feel he was too shocked to speak, perhaps even in denial despite the empty packets that were scattered around him, despite the taste of blood in his mouth. He was silent when they led him out of the cemetery, and Eva could only assume he was silent the rest of his way home with Clary. 

“Are you okay?” Eva reached for Raphael’s hand, but he pulled away. He was rumbling with guilt and self-loathing and he was doing nothing to hide the fact he was avoiding her eyes. 

“You don’t have to pretend it didn’t disgust you,” he said bitterly. “That’s how vampires are made, and mine was much worse than that. I killed people—”

“I don’t care what you did; it wasn’t your fault,” Eva forcefully took his hand. He tried to pull away again, but she didn’t let him. Deep down, he didn’t want to reject her touch; it soothed him and made him feel human and loved. Through their touch, his despair was amplified and with a sigh, Eva pressed her forehead against his shoulder, his muscles hard with stress. She closed her eyes.  _ I love you, Rapha. _

Raphael jumped under her and when she raised her head, his eyes were wide and his lips were trying to form words despite his shock. “How did you do that?”

“The Silent Brothers speak with thoughts,” Eva said with a crooked smile. “Apparently I can speak with emotions; maybe it’s the same thing and they’re just not telling us.”

“That makes absolutely no sense.”

_ I don’t know, but I think I’m figuring it out. _

“Stop doing that!” 

Eva laughed and laced her fingers with his, projecting every string in her heart dedicated to loving his grumpy self, conveying to him that nothing will ever stop her from loving him. In return, she received his unknowing response of gratefulness, of affection, even a tad of inferiority.

“Why do you feel like you don’t deserve me?” she asked against his cheek. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” Raphael took a deep breath, something he never does. “You’re the purest thing in my life, and I’m damned. I don’t deserve your love.”

“Stop acting like such a  _ pendejo _ ,” she teased him. He smiled; whether his amusement stemmed from her horrible accent or her unexpected use of Spanish, she’ll never know. All she knew was that she lightened his spirits and cleared any doubt from his mind.


	21. Joy Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A coincidence not worth mentioning

Eva was thrilled when Raphael called her to go out for the night. He was still being called into endless meetings with Maryse and the Inquisitor, missing many episodes of his telenovelas and neglecting to see her as a result. He picked her up as soon as the sun went down and they settled in their fancy hotel suite to watch his telenovelas. 

“So Ricardo is the pirate?” Eva pointed at the screen. When Raphael nodded, she scoffed, “Camila needs to stay with him! I like him!”

“But Santiago’s in love with her,” Raphael said. “He was supposed to marry her, remember?”

“I like the pirate.”

“You just think he’s handsome.”

“I like the bad boys,” Eva teased as she poked his chest for emphasis. “Particularly ones that wear leather and have really bad attitudes.”

“I’m not like that,” Raphael scoffed playfully.

Eva’s phone began to buzz on the nightstand table. She untangled herself from Raphael and reached for it. It was Jace.

“Hey, Jace,” Eva answered as she jumped out of the bed to walk to the screen doors leading out to the suite’s balcony. Raphael’s eyes followed her for a brief moment before returning to the screen. “Is everything alright?”

“I’m at Luke Garroway’s house,” he explained. “Magnus had to come over because Maia was attacked by a Drevak demon and then Luke was attacked by a Raum demon.”

“My god! Are they alright?” 

“Yeah, Magnus is taking care of them,” he said and trailed off. Eva waited patiently, knowing he was paving the road for what the call was really about. “Is He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named there with you?”

“You mean Raphael?” Eva asked purposefully. Raphael didn’t turn his head, but she knew his ears perked at the sound of his name. “Yeah, he’s here. Why?”

“I need to borrow his motorcycle.”

“As I recall, you stole one already,” she laughed. “He’s not too happy about that.”

“Yeah, but I can’t get to it right now, doofus—I have a warlock babysitter, remember?” Jace scoffed. “Listen, I really need it.”

Eva ran a finger over the glass of the sliding doors, tracing one of the buildings in the distance. “Do you want to tell me why?”

“No.”

“Jace.”

“I don’t want to implicate you.”

Eva frowned. “What are you planning?”

“Please—”

“Tell me what you’re planning.”

There was a pause from his end so silent, Eva almost thought he hung up. When he finally spoke, it was a whisper, “I’m going to see my father.”

Eva’s heart rate must’ve shot up so suddenly, Raphael whipped his head around to look in her direction. Eva whispered as well, though she knew it wasn’t necessary, “Jace, you shouldn’t—”

“I know I shouldn’t, but I have to,” he said. “Don’t tell  _ anyone _ , Eva. I’ll be in deep—”

“More than you already are?” Eva laughed breathlessly. “You’re normally stupid, but this is a new level of stupid.”

“I like to overachieve in all areas.”

“He’ll kill you, Jace.”

“He won’t. I know him.”

Eva took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

The moment she hung up, Raphael materialized at her side like a shadow. “What does that idiot want?”

“To borrow your motorcycle.” Eva tried to avoid his eyes, but there was no lying to him. With his keen ability to sense her heart rate, he was like a walking lie detecting machine. “Don’t make me tell you what he wants to do.”

Raphael eyed her pointedly for a few seconds. “Is it  _ that _ important?”

“To him it is.”

“I suppose I owe all of you,” Raphael shrugged. Eva watched him walk to the bed to grab the remote control and turn off the TV. She opened her mouth to speak, but he did so before she could, “It’s my fault that mundane was Turned.”

“Rapha—”

“Don’t.” Raphael held out a hand. “And there better be a TV where we’re going. I’ve missed too much of  _ Pasión _ as it is. ”

* * *

When they arrived at Luke Garroway’s house, Jace was waiting for them outside. Before Jace could rev the bike, Raphael placed a heavy hand on his shoulder. “I owe you for the mundane, but don’t think I’ve forgotten about what you did at the Dumort.”

“They say elephants never forget,” Jace said with a crude grin. “I didn’t think that applied to vamps too.”

“Bring my bike back in one piece, Shadowhunter,” Raphael said. As Jace revved the demonic motorbike and flew off into the night sky, Eva slipped her hand into her boyfriend’s.

_ What was that about? _

Raphael frowned. “I told you to quit it with that.”

_ Answer me. _

“He left you behind at the Dumort, remember?” Raphael raised a curious brow. “Has he asked for your forgiveness?”

He hadn’t, but he didn’t have to. Eva told him so, but Raphael shook his head. “He left you in danger, and I won’t forgive him for it.”

“Rapha,” Eva sighed softly and squeezed his hand.  _ I don’t need saving, but Clary and Simon did. He… _ she hesitated.  _ He did it for Clary. He loves her. _

Raphael’s face contorted in disgust at the mere thought. Eva continued,  _ I don’t know if either of them know it, but they’re so in love. I feel it every time they’re around each other. It’s becoming too much—all emotions are. I can’t handle them anymore.  _

Raphael looked at her, the moonlight tracing her features beautifully for him. She could feel his adoration and his love for her, amplified through their touch and their proximity. She took a deep breath, trying to keep a firm grip on reality, until he drew her into a kiss. It made her head spin.

Everyone was asleep when they entered the house, and Eva felt a bit awkward breaking into a stranger’s home unannounced, especially when he was sleeping right on the couch. The poor man was out cold, sleeping off the last of the poison in him. Eva and Raphael settled down on the loveseat adjacent to the couch Luke slept on and Raphael turned on the TV with the volume so low, Eva could only hear the buzz from the static. He heard it just fine though. She fell asleep on his shoulder.

* * *

When Eva woke up, she was laying on the loveseat with Raphael’s jacket thrown over her. Sunlight was already beaming through the windows and the burnt sugar smell of magic hung in the air pleasantly.

“Good morning, cupcake.” It was Magnus, standing there with his arms crossed over his chest, his hair an absolute mess and looking sleep deprived. “I woke up about two hours ago to check on my patients and find you here sleeping on the couch. That’s Raphael’s jacket, which means he was here, too, and Jace is nowhere to be found. Care to tell me what’s going on?”

Eva was forced to tell him, but left out the part where Jace wanted Raphael’s motorcycle to find Valentine. He simply wanted to ride around New York for some air, she said, and Raphael agreed simply because he felt he owed them for what happened to Simon. Eva was fairly impressed with her talent for telling faerie truths.

“So much for those unbreakable Shadowhunter vows!” Magnus threw his arms up in the air. “I’m very upset with you, and with Raphael! You knew Jace was under my supervision!”

“I’m sorry, Magnus.” Eva had nothing else to say and simply looked down. Whether Magnus grew frustrated with the conversation, or simply accepted her weak excuse for an apology, she didn’t know. The warlock simply sauntered into the hallway leading further into the house and Eva faintly heard him complain about women taking long in bathrooms.

Eva’s stomach flopped in anxiousness. Did Jace manage to find Valentine, wherever he is? If he did, what did they talk about? Did Valentine offer him a chance to return to him? Her mind was whirling with questions and worries and thoughts, so much so, she barely felt her fingernails clawing into her palm and her teeth biting just a little too hard on her lip. He must’ve come back before sunrise and Raphael, probably not wanting to wake her, left her behind. Eva frowned in annoyance; he left because he knew Magnus was going to yell at them both!

“Eva?” Clary walked into the living room, surprised to see her. “What are you doing here? I heard Magnus yelling—”

“Yeah, that was for me,” she laughed softly. “And for Rapha, but he was smart enough to leave before sunrise. We kind of let Jace borrow the motorcycle and go for a joy ride.”

Clary’s mood completely shifted at the mention of Jace’s name, and the emotions Eva felt clawing at her were too suffocating. She quickly excused herself and went into the kitchen, breathing heavily. It was too strong. Does this have something to do with her newfound ability to speak telepathically? It can’t be the same ability the Silent Brothers have—she can only do it via touch. 

“I’m making coffee,” Clary said suddenly. Eva jumped, suddenly self-conscious. How long had Clary been standing there, watching her come to her senses? Clary seemed to come out of nowhere. The girl seemed to notice Eva’s fright and spoke softly, “Do you want some?”

“Sure.” Eva nodded, but Clary didn’t move. She was holding a spiral-bound notebook in her small hands, her fingernail picking at one of the metal bindings. Her cheeks were flushed, and Eva felt another wave of emotion starting to overwhelm her. This time, it was a bit of embarrassment and...surprise?

“I dreamed of you last night,” she admitted. “I didn’t know you were here, so it was even weirder when I saw you in the living room.”

“What was I doing in the dream? Did I ride off on an inflatable pony?”

“You were an angel.” Clary held out the sketchbook to her. “I sketched what I saw in my dream before I got out of bed—it was so vivid; I couldn’t help it.”

When Eva took the notebook from her, she saw a beautiful sketch of herself standing in a halo of bright gold and red, like scorching fire. She wore white lightweight armor trimmed in gold while golden thread cinched the sleeves around her wrists. Her eyes were pupiless and all gold, her hair still dark and curly and big as always. Extending behind her were feathered wings, the span of them longer than the boundaries of the page. It was eerie to see herself sketched in such a way; it made her pulse knock on the side of her neck.

“It’s beautiful, Clary,” Eva said, handing the sketchbook back to her. “I’m flattered you made me look so angelic. Did I do anything in the dream?”

“You were singing, but it wasn’t with words,” Clary looked up in thought. “It’s a bit hard to explain. And you were tracing a rune in the sky, but I don’t remember...”

“WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?”

Magnus’ voice shrilled through the house, making Clary and Eva jump. The redhead was first to speak, “Looks like Jace finally showed up.”

“This is the last time I cover for him,” Eva laughed weakly. “Remember this, Clary: any idea Jace has is a stupid one.”

After Magnus questioned Jace to his liking, scolded Eva once more, and vowed to give Raphael an earful in the middle of the day when he’d be sleeping, everyone dug in to eat the donuts Alec brought. The sugar and coffee seemed to revitalize Luke enough to realize Raum demons do not just  _ run away _ . Clary admitted it might’ve been the unknown rune on her arm, which no one recognized. 

They recalled their visit to Faerie where the Seelie Queen told them she and Jace were Valentine’s experiments. Coming to the conclusion that Clary’s gift for drawing unknown runes could be a result of that, Clary took hold of her sketchbook and—Eva noted she was careful to skip over the drawing of her as an angel—began to tap her pencil against a blank page.

The angel drawing Clary made unnerved Eva immensely. Perhaps it was Clary’s talent for making things look like they could walk off the page. Perhaps it was just her Shadowhunter blood reacting to anything angelic. Would that be considered hubris? To imagine yourself as an angel with wings surrounded by heavenly fire?

“There!”

Clary’s voice again brought Eva out of her reverie. She was strangely distracted today and a headache was starting to knock at her temple. Too many emotions were swirling around in the room, especially when Jace began to draw the Fearless rune on Alec’s arm. There was a slight twinge of anxiousness from Alec and then...it was gone.

“Well?” Jace asked. “Do you feel any different?”

Alec shrugged his shoulders and Eva was splashed with a wave of disappointment from Clary. Eva’s headache was getting worse. 

The doorbell rang throughout the house and following it came the familiar angry voice of Maryse Lightwood and the foreboding figure of Inquisitor Herondale. Robert Lightwood strolled in behind them, quiet and brooding and intimidating as usual. Isabelle was with them and upon seeing Eva, went to her immediately.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. “You didn’t come home; I thought you were with—”

Izzy was cut off when Alec suddenly stepped forward. “Mother, father. I have something to tell you.” He smiled widely, making his eyes sparkle. “I’m seeing someone.”

Eva thought her head would explode when she felt Magnus’ sudden dread, everyone’s surprise, Maryse and Robert’s exasperation, Inquisitor Herondale’s annoyance. Eva leaned against Izzy, suddenly out of breath. Her  _ parabatai  _ stiffened and unknowingly suffocated Eva with her sudden worry, “Eva? You okay?”

By the time Eva nodded quickly, Alec had hit the floor like a chopped tree. He immediately came to; however, questioning what had just occurred and looking very confused. Magnus insisted it was demon toxins, explaining quickly that there’d been a demon attack last night which is why he was present in the house. He was everyone’s nursing maid.

“How convenient. Everyone’s apparently delirious or unconscious.” Inquisitor Herondale’s voice sliced through the room, making it go quiet like a dungeon. “A house filled with Downworlders, and the children of that traitor Valentine Morgenstern—what are you raising your children around?”

Maryse and Robert turned their heads, clearly embarrassed by the Inquisitor’s insult but having no power to refute her. The woman’s cold eyes scanned the room, stopping upon Eva. A shiver ran up Eva’s spine as if the temperature had dropped fifty degrees.

“And of course we have the look-alike,” the woman continued. “Tell me, is everyone here related in some way to Valentine and his lackeys? Everyone other than the warlock?”

She clearly made that comment to draw reactions—alarm from Robert and Maryse, confusion from everyone else. The Inquisitor’s eyes sparkled with morbid amusement when Eva’s face contorted in curiosity. 

“Oh, you poor orphan,” Inquisitor Herondale cooed, though there was no drop of sincerity in her words. “You chose the name Starkwood upon your 18th birthday—I should know, I approved it. I thought it was rather amusing you chose a name to represent the people who’ve kept secrets from you.”

“Inquisitor,” Robert said in a firm voice. “We’ve kept nothing from her. It’s merely a cruel coincidence that he himself said was not worth mentioning.”

“Coincidence?” Eva finally found her voice. “What is? And who’s  _ he _ ?”

Maryse and Robert looked visibly uncomfortable, but the Inquisitor looked to be enjoying herself. Her tone was uncharacteristically chipper. 

“I agree, Robert. The Angel does seem to have a cruel sense of humor—Heaven no doubt intervened for their amusement when I chose your exile to be in the New York Institute.” The Inquisitor looked straight at Eva. Her smirk was sinister; she clearly reveled at the thought of knowing things others didn’t. “You were trained and tutored by that traitor Hodge Starkweather, and no one cared to mention you look exactly like his late wife.”


	22. Brandybuck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Like the hobbit

_ His late wife? _

The Inquisitor didn’t dwell on this topic further, and Eva suspected she wouldn’t answer any questions if anyone asked. She simply moved on as if the revelation of Eva looking like Hodge’s dead wife was nothing worth noting. Nothing that didn’t deserve any explanation. Eva was starting to believe this bitter old woman’s only goal was to make everyone around her miserable.

The Inquisitor tracked Jace with the piece of a Portal in mirror form, reflecting the evergreen landscape of Idris and a countryside home.

“He went to see his despicable father on his pleasure boat in the middle of the East River,” the Inquisitor said and eyed Eva pointedly. “He called the orphan and had her pet vampire give him his flying motorcycle to use.”

Eva’s skin crawled—she didn’t know if being called  _ orphan _ as if it were a disgusting word irked her more than Raphael being called her pet vampire. Eva saw Jace’s head dip down, his golden hair covering his eyes. This is what he didn’t want, and now he was dragging her along with him.

“You’ve been spying on me?” Jace’s tone was razor-sharp. “Is this what the Clave does? Spy on their fellow Shadowhunters?”

“Be careful what you say to me. You’re not the only one who’s broken the Law,” Inquisitor Herondale continued icily. “In freeing you from the Silent City and from the warlock’s control, in letting you fly away on a demonic motorcycle so you could conspire with Valentine Morgenstern, all your friends are complicit.”

“Jace is not our friend,” Izzy spat bitterly. “He is our brother.”

“And he is under arrest by the authority of the Clave,” the Inquisitor said. “And so is the orphan.”

“My name is Evangeline,” Eva said, her headache pounding and making her ears hum. “Not  _ orphan _ . Jace is my family, and so are the Lightwoods.”

The old woman scoffed. “Even if they lied to you?”

Under normal circumstances, Eva would have minded her tongue, especially with Izzy squeezing her hand and the Lightwoods looking at her with wide eyes. But she couldn’t bite her words back; her rage was fueling her adrenaline. “Hodge said it best: it wasn’t worth mentioning.” 

The amusement that hit her came from Jace, but everyone was pulsing with dread. Inquisitor Herondale was irritated, but she always seemed to be that way.

“Show me your hands, both of you,” the Inquisitor ordered. Izzy and Clary both protested simultaneously, but it was not the Inquisitor who refuted them. It was Alec.

“The Law is hard, but it is the Law,” he said. “We have to let them go.”

“Alec!” Izzy cried. “How can you say that?”

“The Inquisitor’s right, Isabelle.” Alec was speaking in an even tone, indifferent almost. Blind with rage and betrayal, Izzy bolted out of the house and Magnus followed suit. Even he didn’t enjoy the dramatics unfolding before him.

“Two down,” Jace joked bitterly. “Who’s next?”

“Quiet, Jonathan,” the Inquisitor roughly took his wrists to draw a binding rune over the. When she finished, she turned to Eva.

“Your hands,  _ Evangeline _ .” Even her name sounded disgusting from the Inquisitor. The old woman was drawing the binding rune on her wrists as well. 

* * *

The only solace Eva found was the regret she felt oozing from Alec. It wasn’t easy to detect it, especially under the bitterness and rage Izzy was projecting. Eva felt faint, her headache only worsening the closer they got to the Institute. She rested her head on Izzy’s stiff shoulder, a mix of  _ parabatai _ strength and avalanche of emotions both helping and suffocating her. She asked her to draw an  _ iratze _ on her temple and the alleviated the headache immensely. 

When they arrived, the Inquisitor ordered the Lightwoods to take Eva to the library while she handled Jace. Alec quickly departing into a corridor the moment he was able to leave. Izzy shot a darted glare at his back as he walked; he would have a knife in his shoulder blades if her looks could kill.

“Izzy, it’s fine,” Eva said softly. Wincing against the binding rune on her wrists, Eva took her  _ parabatai’s _ hands.  _ He didn’t mean what he said. _

Izzy’s head whipped up. Like Raphael, she was unused to Eva’s mental intrusions; they were the only ones that knew of her strange ability to speak like the Silent Brothers. She could only do so via touch, however.  _ Talk to Alec. He didn’t mean—  _

“Let’s go, Eva,” Maryse urged her and her daughter apart, breaking their mental connection. “We have to take you to the library.”

Robert and Maryse silently escorted her to the library and had her sit in one of the armchairs. Eva fondly remembered sitting here countless times with Hodge, reading Tolkien or some other fantasy novels. The memories created a pit in her stomach.

“Who was she?” Eva began. She didn’t need to be sensitive to emotions to sense the Lightwoods’ discomfort. “Hodge’s wife.”

Robert and Maryse exchanged glances, silently speaking to each other before Robert dropped his eyes and let Maryse begin, “Her name was Marigold.”

The name sounded familiar, but Eva pushed the thought aside to listen to Maryse, “She was in the Academy with all of us—that’s how Hodge met her. They married after they graduated.” 

“Am I related to her family?” Eva asked. “Is that why I look like her?”

“She wasn’t from a Shadowhunter family. She was a mundane with the Sight discovered by the New Orleans Institute,” Robert chimed in. “She Ascended as Marigold Brandybuck, but she married Hodge soon after, so such a ridiculous name didn’t matter—I’m not even sure how it was approved.”

Eva jaw dropped.  _ Brandybuck _ like Merry Brandybuck from  _ The Lord of the Rings _ ? Hodge was the one who encouraged her to read the trilogy. He must’ve been pleased to see she loved it as much as his wife did. It must’ve also been so heartbreaking for him.

“But I don’t remember seeing her in the picture of the Circle Hodge showed us.” Eva recalled only seeing the Lightwoods, Valentine and Jocelyn Morgenstern, Robert’s  _ parabatai  _ Michael Wayland, and Hodge himself. “Was she in the Circle?”

“No, she wasn’t,” Maryse shook her head. “To this day, I don’t know how she managed to stay married to Hodge and not be part of the Circle. Valentine wanted everyone in his clutches—he would’ve...” Maryse trailed off, eyeing her husband nervously. 

Robert shrugged his massive shoulders. “Say it. Imogen has caused us enough grief.”

“Stephen Herondale was the Inquisitor’s son and was in the Circle with us,” Maryse said in a hushed voice. She looked up at the library doors occasionally. “He was married to Amatis Graymark—Lucian’s sister. Valentine convinced Stephen to divorce her when Lucian became a werewolf and marry Celine, a woman that was completely under Valentine’s control.”

“He was more than capable of forcing Hodge to divorce Marigold for refusing to join the Circle, but he didn’t,” Robert said. “I suppose he didn’t see Marigold as a threat, and Hodge was blindly loyal regardless—especially after she died.”

Eva nodded slowly, drinking the story in. “How did she die?”

“There was a fire at the Starkweather manor,” Maryse said grimly. “It was enormous—it shot up into the sky as if the angels were the ones responsible. Hodge was in Alicante at the time, and we had to hold him back as the manor burned. There was no saving it or anyone inside.”

“She died with their son,” Robert added, his shoulders stiff. “He was born not too long before Alec—they were both about to be three months old. The fire barely left any remains, only a few bones the Silent Brothers took with them and buried in the necropolis. Not even they could explain the fire.”

“Valentine said it was all a conspiracy by the Clave,” Maryse said. “That the fire started in James Johann’s nursery, that they were trying to kill off the next generation of the Circle and that they’d come for his unborn son and for Alec...” she broke off with a sharp sigh. “At the time we believed him, but now we take everything he ever told us with a bucket of salt.”

“What about Hodge?” Eva asked. She could still feel the wound his betrayal left in her, but she couldn’t help but feel sympathy for him. He lost his wife and his son, and then was cursed by the Clave to stay stuck inside an Institute where he had to look at his dead wife’s reincarnation over and over again. Was he so doting on her simply because she reminded him of Marigold? Was it all a lie? Did he give her the Tolkien series just so she could resemble his late wife? Is that why he wanted to have her run away with him? Eva felt sick to her stomach.

“He moved into his second house in the city and didn’t come out for a long time,” Maryse said. “We were ready for the day we’d walk inside and find he’d killed himself, but he didn’t. He recovered and became insufferably loyal to Valentine after that. He truly believed the Clave had everything to do with the death of his wife and son.”

Eva couldn’t question them further; the Inquisitor walked into the library and made it feel fifty degrees colder. Robert and Maryse immediately stiffened, and with one harsh word from the old woman, they walked out of the room. The doors closed with an echoing clunk, leaving Eva in the room alone with this very bitter woman.

“Now, you are an accomplice to Jonathan Morgenstern’s disregard for the Law,” she began. “Do you deny it?”

Eva shook her head. “He doesn’t—”

“I didn’t ask for any explanations, child.”

“What are you planning to do with him?” Eva asked. “Are you going to threaten him to get to Valentine?”

“It doesn’t concern you,” she snapped. “What does concern you is what I have planned for you.”

“You’re going to throw me into the cells of the Silent City?” Eva asked, not sarcastically. Perhaps it would be beneficial; she could ask one of the Brothers why she could speak like them.

“Well, of course. I’ve already called for them.” The Inquisitor’s smirk pricked Eva’s skin like icicles. “But that’s not all—with you in my possession, I can control the New York vampire clan.”

“Why would you want control of the vampires in New York? What could they possibly offer you?”

“Just because one of them buys you flowers and calls you pretty doesn’t mean they aren’t committing atrocities in the shadows,” the Inquisitor said. “Valentine may have committed those murders for his own reasons, but what’s to say these vampires don’t do the same and the rest of Downworld just turns a blind eye?”

“Raphael runs a tight ship. He wouldn’t allow his clan to break the Law.”

“Has he hypnotized you with his undead charm?” 

Eva’s blood was boiling just beneath her skin. She was hyper-aware of Raphael’s grave dirt against her collarbones, the thought of how enraged he’d be to see her being used against him in such a manner, to see her chained up and used as blackmail because of his position as clan leader. 

The doors of the library creaked open and when Eva looked over her shoulder, she saw Alec enter the room with a Silent Brother looming behind him. He quickly averted his eyes from Eva’s, clearly still feeling ashamed of throwing her and Jace under the bus.

“He asked me to guide him to you, Inquisitor,” Alec mumbled as they approached. 

“Yes, thank you, Alexander,” the Inquisitor nodded. “You may go.”

Before he could turn and walk away, Eva reached out to him and grabbed his hand. She winced when the rune binding her wrists burned her skin.

_ Don’t freak out, Alec _ , Eva said quickly. Alec’s blue eyes widened, but otherwise he remained stoic. Eva felt the tendons in his hand stretch taut.  _ I know you’re on our side. I know you didn’t betray Jace. Izzy’s pissed, but she’ll come around—  _

“Let go of him, child. He can’t save you.” the Inquisitor snapped. She didn’t raise her voice, but she didn’t have to; her voice carried into the room as if she did. “Leave the room, Alexander. This doesn’t concern you.”

Alec pulled his hand out of Eva’s, giving her a slight nod in acknowledgement. Eva couldn’t help but smile as she watched him turn, step through the doors of the library, and close the doors behind him. As soon as he did, the Inquisitor cleared her throat.

“I am aware you are low in numbers, but I need her placed in your custody until I am ready to interrogate her,” she began, looking into the dark hood of the Silent Brother. “I doubt Valentine will come after her like—”

_ I am impressed you’ve learned so quickly. _

Eva jumped at the sudden mental intrusion. She was aware the Inquisitor was still speaking, but it sounded very distant as the voice touched her mind again.  _ Yes, I can hear you when you speak the Language of Thoughts even if we are not touching.  _

“—she won’t be down there for more than a night.” The Inquisitor finished. Eva tried not to smirk; it was quite humorous to have the Silent Brother blatantly ignoring the Inquisitor and she had no clue about it. 

_ She will remain in the Silent City until ordered otherwise by you, Inquisitor, _ the Silent Brother responded and placed his hand on Eva’s shoulder. Eva understood the gesture and stood from the armchair. He didn’t remove his hand when she did. 

“Excellent,” the Inquisitor continued. “You are free to interrogate her yourselves if she—”

_ Can we go? _ Eva asked through the Brother’s touch.  _ I’d rather be in the Silent City than in here with her. _

_ Let her finish, or else we will not hear the end of it. _

Eva couldn’t resist the smirk that plastered over her lips. The Inquisitor was quick to see it and glared down at her. “You think this is all a joke, don’t you? Take her away.”

The Silent Brother pressed his hand between Eva’s shoulder blades to lead her towards the doors. As they walked, she asked,  _ Which Silent Brother are you? You’re not Brother Zachariah.  _

_ The cat that lives in this Institute was also disappointed to see I was not Zachariah _ , he said. The voice in her head was neutral, but she could feel his exasperation clearly. Silent Brothers did have emotions after all. She felt another headache knocking at her temple; Izzy’s  _ iratze  _ must be wearing off. He added,  _ You have seen me before, Evangeline Starkwood. I gave you your first rune, and presided over your parabatai ceremony. _

_ Brother Enoch!  _ Eva smiled to herself. The elevator door was visible to them at the end of the corridor.  _ I thought you can only speak the Language of Thoughts if you’re a Silent Brother. How can I—  _

He pulled his hand away from her, breaking their connection abruptly. She wasn’t sure if he did this to avoid answering her, or to press the button for the elevator. 


	23. Oath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What do Silent Brothers really talk about when no one's listening?

Upon arriving at the New York City Marble Cemetery, Enoch removed the rune binding her wrists and then drew an incredibly powerful  _ iratze _ to heal the burn sores on her skin. 

“I take it you aren’t going to arrest me?” Eva asked as she followed him down the path of the cemetery. “I didn’t think the Silent Brothers would disregard an order from the Inquisitor.”

_ We will not disregard her orders, _ Enoch said.  _ You will be placed in the cells until she orders us to release you. _

“She’s going to use me to start a war with the vampires!” Eva said and habitually reached for her pocket only to remember her phone had been confiscated. She should’ve told Alec to relay the message to Raphael. “Can you summon Raphael?”

_ No _ , Enoch said.  _ And do not think of breaking the vial of grave dirt around your neck. _

She needed to learn to read minds like they did too. Maybe they could teach her. “Did she really mean that? She’d really use me as blackmail against Raphael?”

_ She has no intention of doing so; she cares not for the vampires of this city. She cares to bring you to justice for aiding Jace Morgenstern. You still broke the Law and she has every intention of holding you accountable for disobeying her orders. _

Eva grimaced but said nothing on the matter as they approached the angel statue guarding the entrance to the Silent City. As she watched Brother Ench produce a stele and carve a rune on the base of the statue, she asked, “Were you the one who found me?”

_ No, it was Zachariah. _

The entrance to the Silent City yawned open like a dark and gaping grave and after tucking his stele into his belt, Enoch gestured for her to begin the descent into the city. Eva, like any other Shadowhunter, wasn’t particularly fond of the Silent City with its smell of old ink and paper, with its looming towers made of Nephilim ashes and bones ranging from skulls to femurs used as contemporary decoration, but she pushed down her displeasure and started down into the pit.

On her fifth step down into the darkness, she stopped so abruptly, Enoch bumped into her back. She barely felt it, however. Her headache, previously just an irritating pang on her temple, engulfed her entire forehead and neck. She cried out and would’ve collapsed down the flight of stairs if Enoch hadn’t grabbed her arm. The very vibration of her voice in her throat shot electrical currents into the back of her eyes, her ears bursting with pressure and filling with whispering voices, millions of them. They were scattered and she couldn’t make sense of them; most of it wasn’t even language. They were thoughts and memories and emotions and— 

Eva’s cheeks were wet with tears when Enoch sat her up against a marble arch. She hadn’t even realized he’d carried her down the entire spiralling flight of stairs. Her vision was blurry and twirling around her in flickering ribbons. The voices continued, whispering louder and louder and she screamed, begging for it to stop. She knew the words didn’t leave her throat. It didn’t feel as if words were leaving her, only screams.

She felt the burn of a stele on her forearm and with every stroke, the voices echoing in her head like an enclosed chamber began to fade into the distance. Her headache receded, her vision cleared. She was suddenly aware of Enoch’s very mutilated face in front of her, stele in one hand and the other holding her wrist. She could feel the rune digging into her arm, burning her skin. It was permanent. She hadn’t glanced down to see it; she didn’t need to. Its image was flickering behind her eyes like an old film projector. A beautiful swirl of lines, like careful brushstrokes on a masterpiece. It wasn’t a rune from the Gray Book. It was pure angelic power.

_ Can you hear me, Evangeline? _

Eva nodded slowly in response. Her hands were still trembling from the unknown force that took her breath away. 

_ I did not think your mind had expanded enough to hear all of us at once,  _ Enoch said. He gently took her arms and helped her up. Her knees nearly gave out on her; she clutched his robes for support. _ I apologize. I would have given you the rune earlier had I known. _

“What happened to me?” Eva mumbled, grateful her own voice didn’t split her head into pieces like it did before. She looked down at the very prominent rune on her forearm. It made a wave of uneasiness wash over her, the same wave she felt when she saw Clary’s drawing of her and of the Fearless rune. “What is this rune?”

_ It is the rune of what we call the Language of Thoughts _ , Enoch explained.  _ It is the final rune given to Silent Brothers so they may use the ability to its full extent.  _

“You didn’t give me any other runes,” Eva pointed out. She was standing on her own now. 

_ The runes given to novice Silent Brothers open their minds and allows them to sense and project the emotions of those around them _ .  _ When they learn to interpret them into cohesive speech, then they receive the rune I have given you. _

Eva’s eyes widened as it dawned on her. Almost nervously, she spoke in her mind, _ I didn’t need the others. _

_ You did not. _ Enoch turned to walk down a corridor. Eva followed him as he continued,  _ Your mind had expanded enough to already interpret speech through emotions. Zachariah had told me as much, and I am sure you’ve already used your abilities unknowingly—or perhaps knowingly—on those around you.  _

“How can I do this?” Eva asked, jogging to step in front of him and halt his pace. “You avoided my question back in the Institute.”

_ Upon entering the Silent City, all of our thoughts overwhelmed you at once—there may be few of us left, but our minds are always active, _ he continued, not-so-subtly evading her inquiry once again.  _ Your mind has now opened to all who speak the Language of Thoughts and you may choose which mind you touch, and which mind you listen to. All with due practice. Physical contact is no longer needed. _

“But  _ how _ ?” 

Enoch was spared a response when a hooded figure turned into the corridor and approached them quietly. In the dim light, Eva could see his dark hair and fair, barely scarred skin. It was Brother Zachariah.

_ You have given her the rune, Enoch?  _ Zachariah began.  _ The Elders will not be pleased. _

_ Our voices were overwhelming her _ , Enoch said.  _ With proper training, I doubt she would’ve needed the rune in the first place. _

_ Try explaining this to the Elders while omitting everything.  _

_ Unlike you, I am quite proficient in faerie untruths. And keeping my thoughts to myself. _

“I can hear both of you,” Eva frowned. Did they always speak of others in front of them like this? No one would know anyway, unless they wanted them to know. “Can someone please tell me why I can do this?”

_ We cannot.  _ Enoch stated firmly. 

“Why not?”

_ We are under oath. _ It was Brother Zachariah. When Eva whipped her head around to look at him, he added,  _ We cannot speak of anything pertaining to how you came to be. _

_ How I came to be?  _ Eva felt a chill run down her spine.  _ Oath? _

_ You’ve said too much, Zachariah _ , Brother Enoch spat. His voice was neutral, but it was clear he was incredibly irritated.  _ Be quiet. _

“Does this have anything to do with Marigold Starkweather?” Eva said on a whim. “Or why I look like her? Is she alive somewhere and you both are hiding her? Is that it?”

_ Marigold Starkweather is dead _ , Enoch said. 

“Am I related to her?”

_ I can neither confirm nor deny that. _

_ The fey would be impressed with your use of their speech, Enoch _ , Zachariah baited.  _ The Seelie Queen would be thrilled to have you as her advisor.  _

Eva thought the Silent Brothers would be much more mature than this. No one would respect them or even fear them if they knew they squabbled like chickens in this manner. If Eva wasn’t so occupied with thoughts of this unknown oath barring them from telling her why she has this ability or evading her question about Marigold Starkweather, she would’ve loved to just sit back and hear them argue.

_ The Inquisitor has ordered for her incarceration until she says otherwise _ , Enoch said.  _ I trust you will escort her to her cell? _

_ I can neither confirm nor deny that. _

Eva bit her lip, trying hard not to laugh, as Enoch straightened his back but said nothing. He merely brushed past them and disappeared into an adjacent corridor. Eva watched him leave and whispered, “Isn’t it rude to speak to your superior like that?”

_ Enoch has grown humorless in the past fifty years or so—it’s his age, unfortunately _ , Zachariah said.  _ But he is very wise and has been very kind and patient as my teacher. We are very close despite his denials. _

“Is he still a gossip queen?”

_ Much more so than the Seelie Queen. _

Eva let out a soft laugh but it quickly died in her throat. “What can you tell me about this oath?”

_ Not much can be said—that is what the oath is in place for _ .  _ But I can say it is meant to protect you, and to protect those who watch over you. _

“I have guardian angels?”

_ Be careful with your words, Evangeline.  _

Zachariah was surprisingly easy to talk to. “Can you tell me if Marigold Starkweather is involved somehow?”

_ I cannot say. _

“How about Hodge?” 

_ Please stop asking questions. I cannot answer any of them. _

“Can the oath be lifted?”

_ By the individual who placed it. _

Eva didn’t even bother to ask further questions. This oath, if it was indeed real, was going to bar him from answering them anyway. Oaths were sacred magic, placed upon others by warlocks or fey or the magically-adept, and while Eva has never been under one herself, she’s read they make it impossible to speak about whatever the oath is binding you against. It’s almost like the rune of silence the Silent Brothers mutilate themselves with or a geas of the fey.

Zachariah suddenly stopped and said to her,  _ You have much to learn, Evangeline. Had your mind been open to listening to the Brothers, you would have heard we have a visitor. _

Eva didn’t know how to open her mind like he was encouraging her to do, and he seemed to realize this ability was still beyond her. He opted to just tell her.

_ Raphael Santiago is knocking on our door _ , he said.  _ I can only imagine he is looking for you. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all who tune in every week! It is very appreciated! Enjoy!


	24. Threats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon isn't very good at them

Brother Zachariah escorted her to the entrance of the Silent City and standing near the angel statue was Raphael. The sun’s last beams of light were about to disappear into the horizon, and even though he didn’t need it, he had an enchanted umbrella over his shoulder to keep up appearances. It was given to him a long time ago by a green warlock friend of his that he always spoke fondly of.

“What are you doing here?” Eva went right to the point. She was incredibly shocked to see him, especially since the Inquisitor threatened to use her against him. Enoch assured her the Inquisitor only said that to scare her, but seeing Raphael here was eerie. “How’d you even know I was here? I doubt the Inquisitor told anyone I was arrested.”

“Apparently, whatever deal your Inquisitor was planning with Valentine went up in smoke,” Raphael began. “She’s gathering up the Conclave to fight Valentine’s forces over on the East River—she told Isabelle you’d been arrested but since the Lightwoods are organizing the assault, they called their resident pet vampire to come fetch you.”

 _Please don’t say that_ , Eva touched his mind before pulling him into a hug. He sighed at the mental intrusion but wrapped his free arm around her. _That’s what the Inquisitor called you, and I hate her for it._

Raphael chuckled. “I hate her too.”

Eva turned to look at Brother Zachariah, standing there as motionless as the angel statue. “Will you let me go?”

 _There has been no order formally releasing you, but I can assume you are no longer under arrest if the Inquisitor has seen the error of her ways_ , Zachariah said. _And your parabatai is fighting in this battle; she needs you by her side and I will not stop you._

“And Enoch?”

_I will handle him; I have been doing so for nearly a century._

Eva smiled at the Silent Brother, grateful for his understanding, and turned to walk down the path with Raphael. She hadn’t gotten very far when Zachariah’s voice touched her mind privately. She didn’t know how she knew, but she did.

 _Do not let Valentine Morgenstern catch a glimpse of you,_ he said. _By any means necessary._

Eva shivered. _Why?_

_I cannot say._

“What’s wrong?” Raphael asked, clearly sensing her heart rate increase. Eva simply squeezed his hand and shook her head in response. 

Valentine was involved in this as well? How? And why?

Eva cast aside those thoughts. There was a battle rumbling and the conclave was readying up for it. She didn’t even care to ask how Raphael got a hold of a black Audi and when he learned to drive a car. They didn’t talk along the way, and she was thankful he was letting her brood. He knew her well enough to know she was in Shadowhunter mode right now, and whatever was bothering her—the oath, Valentine somehow being involved, the story of Marigold and Hodge—would reach his ears eventually. 

Raphael parked around the corner of the Institute where they could clearly see Shadowhunters from all over New York running in and out of the building carrying weapons and gear and supplies into cars for the battle. Eva kicked open the door of the passenger side and flew out of the car. She didn’t get very far; with his vampire speed, Raphael was around the car in a second, blocking her way, and brought her in for a searing kiss that left her breathless.

“Come back to me,” he told her in a whisper only she could hear. “ _Te quiero con la vida_.”

 _I love you too_ , Eva said in his mind. 

“Eva!” Izzy waved the moment she saw her running up to the Institute. “I have all your gear and weapons ready!”

Eva smiled, catching a gear jacket her _parabatai_ tossed her way. “You’re the best!”

“I know.” Izzy flipped her ponytail for emphasis. Her dark eyes scanned Eva, silently checking her for any mistreatment she might’ve suffered at the hands of the Inquisitor or perhaps even the Silent Brothers—no one was safe from Isabelle Sophia Lightwood. Her keen eyes did pick up a subtle difference and she quickly took Eva’s wrist before she could slip into the sleeve of her gear jacket. “What’s this rune?”

 _It’s the rune for the Language of Thoughts,_ Eva touched her mind. Izzy let her wrist go, allowing Eva to continue gearing up. _Brother Enoch gave it to me so I can talk like them now. I’ll explain everything to all of you guys later. It’s a long story._

After Eva geared up, she left with the Lightwoods to the East River where boats were stationed ready to attack Valentine’s ship floating like an enormous shadow. Demons were everywhere and ichor painted the deck in black. The glow of seraph blades and witchlight stones lit up the dark night like fireworks, enough to see the demons and the bodies of the fallen Shadowhunters. 

Eva fought alongside Izzy in perfect sync; Izzy would wrap her whip around a demon and hold it still so Eva could slice at it with her chakrams. 

Eva had just pounced on an Oni and made it disappear in a puff of smoke when she heard Izzy’s voice cry out her name. When she turned around, a massive spider demon was crawling straight towards her. Izzy immediately threw herself in front of Eva just as it spit yellow poison from its fangs and struck her, sizzling her skin. In rage, Eva hurled a chakram into the spider’s face and it vanished on the spot. Eva dove down and cradled her _parabatai_ in her arms, the battle around her raging on but all she could focus on was getting her stele to carve perfect _iratzes_. Izzy was whimpering—Izzy who never showed pain even if it killed her. 

“Isabelle!” Alec called, killing a demon on his way towards them with Jace in tow. Seeing the blood running over Izzy’s jacket and staining her hair, Alec frowned darkly. “Get her off the ship! We’ll cover you!”

Eva figured it was the adrenaline in her—Izzy was taller than her but she managed to carry her to the stairs at the end of the deck while Alec and Jace fended off demons for them. Izzy was strong enough to climb down the ladder with Eva at her heels and they managed to get to safety just in time. Valentine’s demon-infested ship fell to pieces out of the blue, as if a bomb exploded from within its belly.

However, when they arrived at the Institute, they were in for the surprise of their lives. Simon was walking in the sun as if he wasn’t a vampire at all. He was standing by the gate of the Institute with Jace, Alec, and Clary. When he caught the bewildered expression of Izzy and Eva approaching him, he said in a whisper, “Jace let me drink from him so I could heal faster—I’m a Daylighter now like He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.”

“Oh, he’ll be thrilled,” Eva sighed and pointed over her shoulder at the Conclave members shuffling into the Institute. “Especially since everyone’s seen you already.”

“I don’t get what the big deal is,” Clary said. “It’s not like they can drink his blood and become Daylighters...can they?”

“It’s vamp politics,” Jace rolled his shoulders. “They don’t like things that are different and eliminate them if they are.”

Simon seemed to pale more than he already was. Eva swatted her hand in his direction playfully, “He won’t kill you, Simon.”

“He’ll just threaten you,” Izzy shrugged. That didn’t help Simon in the slightest; he still looked terrified. Izzy turned to her _parabatai_ , snapping her fingers absentmindedly, “We’re all here now, Eva. Do you mind explaining why Brother Enoch gave you the rune for the Language of Thoughts?”

“I was surprised when Alec told me you pulled that trick on him in the library,” Jace said. “And hurt you didn’t tell me.”

“I could only speak in your head if I was touching you and it hurt my head every time I did.” Eva rolled up her sleeve so they could see the strange rune on her skin. “When I went down to the Silent City, I heard all of the Brothers at once so Brother Enoch gave me the rune so I could control it better.”

“Did they tell you why you can speak the Language of Thoughts?” Alec asked. “I’m surprised they didn’t dissect you for answers.”

“No, but Brother Enoch and Zachariah weren’t surprised,” she said and took a deep breath. “Apparently they’re under an oath that some person put on them to protect me.”

“Protect you from what?” Izzy immediately went rigid; a product of the bond between them. “Is someone trying to kill you?”

“I think it might be Valentine.” Eva looked between Jace and Clary. “Brother Zachariah warned me not to let him see me. I don’t know why I feel like this has something to do with Hodge and Marigold...” Eva trailed off, realizing they didn’t know Marigold’s story and quickly filled them in on what Maryse and Robert told her in the library.

“I remember the Seelie Queen said Jace and Clary were Valentine’s experiments,” Alec recalled. Simon shifted slightly in discomfort, and Eva could sense his bitterness. “Maybe you’re related to Marigold somehow and he experimented on you too. That’s why Clary can create new runes and Jace can jump out of a Malachi Configuration and you can speak the Language of Thoughts.” 

“The key is finding the person that placed the oath,” Eva said. “If we can get to whoever that is, then the oath can be lifted and they might even know what Valentine did to Clary and Jace.”

“Can you imagine if we’re all related?” Jace grimaced. “I’ll have another annoying sister.”

“I _am_ your sister, idiot,” Eva jabbed him in the arm. “If that’s the case then you’re the middle child, which would explain a lot.”

Eva’s phone began to ring in her back pocket. When she whipped it out, she saw Raphael’s name on the caller ID. Izzy leaned over to peek and raised her eyebrows, “Didn’t you tell him the battle’s over?”

“Yeah, I texted him and he responded...” Eva trailed off in confusion. Nonetheless, she flipped open the cellphone and answered, “Hey, Rapha.”

“I’m hoping this idiot didn’t drink from you, or I might have to commit filicide.”

Simon let out a groan, throwing his arms up in the air. His keen vampire senses heard Raphael clearly. “How does he know already?”

Eva put the call on speaker as Raphael responded, “I’m head of the New York vampire clan; I know _everything._ ”

“He didn’t drink from me,” Eva reassured him. “You can relax.” 

“I’m glad to hear that, but it still doesn’t save him from me.”

“There’s the threat,” Izzy smiled proudly. “ _Thy people are my people_.”

“Please keep him locked up somewhere until sunset,” Raphael asked nicely; it was obvious he was speaking to Eva. He always used a different tone with her. “I don’t want to send my vampires out to hunt him down.”

“I know your secret too, Raphael,” Simon blurted out. Everyone’s eyes widened at the same time, even Clary’s. He seemed to instantly regret his words but continued with his false bravado nonetheless. “We’re the same, you and I.”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that— _any_ of that,” Raphael said, the disgust obvious even through the phone. Jace let out a snicker and Clary nudged him in the ribs with her elbow. “Stay put, Simon Lewis. We’ll talk tonight.”

They all started to make their way through the Institute’s courtyard, now empty of Conclave members that were either inside meeting with Maryse and Robert or had gone home. The doors opened for them like always and they all stepped through the threshold without a thought. When a cry erupted from their group; however, the Shadowhunters whipped around to see Clary holding onto Simon. The vampire was writhing in pain, crying out and lunging himself through the doors to the outside.

“What’s going on?” Clary asked, bewildered as she watched Simon wincing on the steps of the Institute. “Raphael could walk inside! Why can’t Simon?”

“Maybe he didn’t drink enough of Jace’s blood,” Alec suggested.

“He almost killed me,” Jace said. “He probably drank more than Raphael did—I’m flattered, really.”

“The Sanctuary it is.” Izzy walked over and helped Simon up, nudging him in the direction. “A word of advice when dealing with Dracula: _never_ threaten him. I always find saying you’ll tell Eva works wonders. _You’re going to kill me? I’ll tell Eva!_ And he’ll back off.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	25. Angel Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Daylighters are made

“I won’t tell anyone you’re a Daylighter!”

“Why don’t you say it louder so all of New York can hear? Scream it to the Heavens so the Angels can hear it too.”

Eva nudged Raphael, silently asking him to calm down. His tone was sharp and dry as usual, but he was a mess underneath—a mess of fear and anger. Fear for the havoc that vampires may cause if they were to find out Shadowhunter blood creates Daylighters, and anger due to Simon being incredibly unreasonable.

“Everyone saw me already,” Simon said again. “And I won’t say anything. We’ve kept your secret until now.”

“Surprisingly,” Raphael scoffed. They all stood in the Sanctuary of the Institute, windowless and massive with pillars that towered over their heads. When Raphael arrived, he was brought up to speed with everything that occurred in the last 24 hours: Hodge and Marigold’s story, the new rune that will forever be etched into Eva’s forearm and what it does, Brothers Zachariah and Enoch being under an oath to keep her safe, and Valentine supposedly wanting to kill her if he caught a glimpse of her. They explained Simon drank from Jace, but despite having drunk more blood, he could not step on hallowed ground without writhing in excruciating pain. They’d even placed a Star of David in his hands and his skin burned as if he was holding a scolding rod of iron.

“You have no idea the chaos you will cause for being what you are,” Raphael said. “You will _not_ say you drank from a Shadowhunter by any means necessary, am I clear?”

“I won’t!” Simon sighed heavily. “What have I been saying for the past hour and a half?”

“Will there be vampires hunting Simon down?” Clary asked. 

“My vampires have been ordered to stay away from him,” Raphael glared at Simon, who shrunk under his intense gaze. “But I cannot speak for vampires outside of my jurisdiction, and I assure you, news of his abilities will spread quickly.”

“Can’t the clan protect him?” Eva asked. “You can give the order, Rapha.”

Raphael shook his head. “I can, but he refuses to join the clan. By vampire Law, he is rogue and can therefore be hunted down and killed. The only reason he is still alive—and I say that very loosely—is because the clan is aware he’s connected to the Nephilim of this Institute.”

“Just keep your mouth shut,” Jace summarized nicely. “Don’t say you drank my exquisite blood or throw Raphael under the bus, and just watch out for any vampires that don’t talk like your average New Yorker.”

“If you join my clan, I can offer you protection,” Raphael offered. His hands were in his pockets and Eva could feel a wave of awkwardness from him. “We will not let anyone touch you.”

“You just want to lock me away and control me,” Simon scoffed. “And I’m not leaving my family.”

Eva knew the family card was a particular soft spot for Raphael, and it worked like a charm. No one would know, as his expression was still a cross between annoyance and contempt, but Eva knew Raphael was recalling his memories of his family, of his mother and his little brothers and everyone he cared about before he outlived them all. 

“You can’t say I didn’t offer,” Raphael said aloofly. “Don’t come begging for my protection when the world’s vampires come to you demanding an explanation.”

Simon nodded. “I’ll make sure to lie.”

“And keep me out of it,” Raphael reminded him. 

Eva walked him out of the Sanctuary and after kissing her goodbye, he revved up his motorcycle and flew off into the night sky of New York City. He never tired of the city’s glittering lights; they only ever seemed to get brighter as the decades passed. He parked his bike on the roof of the Dumort, tossed a tarp over it to protect it from sun damage, and ventured down into the hotel. 

When he walked into his suite, he pulled off his leather jacket and after meticulously hanging it on a wooden hanger and putting it away into his closet, he stepped into the sitting area of his suite. He poured himself a snifter of blood from a decanter he kept on a tea trolley and plopped himself down on the couch. He was nearly done with the glass when his phone began to ring. At first he thought it was Eva, but the name on his caller ID wasn’t all too surprising either. He flipped it open and answered.

“I heard what happened on the East River last night with Valentine Morgenstern. I take it your girlfriend is fine?”

“She’s fine,” Raphael smiled. Ragnor Fell, his longtime friend, was appalled when Raphael told him he was dating a Shadowhunter. They’d made a promise decades ago that neither of them would ever fraternize with the Nephilim, and quite frankly, Raphael didn’t think he’d be the one to break that rule until he met Eva. As expected, Ragnor was skeptical of the relationship at first, but since Raphael has been with her for nearly a year, he’s come to accept that the Shadowhunter was here to stay. “I’ll make sure to tell her you were worried.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“When will you be in New York? She wants to meet you even though I advise her against it.”

“Please keep doing so. I greatly appreciate it.”

“You’re in Idris?”

“London, actually—I miss my old stomping grounds,” he said. “You’re in the Dumort?”

When Raphael confirmed he was, the line went dead and the shimmer of a projection began forming the shape of Ragnor Fell dressed in a casual tweed suit, sitting on what looked like an ornate lawn chair. The green tone of his skin always looked paler when he projected.

“Is it true?” Ragnor asked. “I heard there’s a Daylighter in New York.”

Raphael knew word would get out fast. “Yes, it’s true.”

“One of yours?”

“No. He’s technically rogue.”

Ragnor narrowed his eyes dubiously and Raphael, already exhausted with the topic, slammed the rest of the blood in his snifter. “He’s friends with the Shadowhunters of the Institute.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

“I’ve made it clear I can’t protect him,” Raphael said, and his words caught in his throat. He’s never told Ragnor he was a Daylighter himself—it was bad enough everyone in the Institute knew and even though they’d sworn not to say a word, he never found the courage to tell Ragnor. Franky, it never came up during their monthly phone calls which mostly consisted of them gossiping about Magnus Banes’ antics, and since Ragnor has never implied he knew, Raphael took it as a sign that his secret was safe. Unlike Simon’s.

“I warned you about this,” Ragnor said carefully. “The Nephilim are prone to pick favorites.”

“Eva’s not like that.”

“Please,” Ragnor scoffed. “She’s _Nephilim_.”

Raphael pushed himself off the couch to pour himself some more blood. As he did so, Ragnor added, “It doesn’t surprise me they’re protecting him, though. He must be incredibly well-connected.”

Raphael let out a laugh very uncharacteristic of him. It genuinely amused him to hear such a thing. “He hasn’t been a vampire for more than a month! He didn’t have the Sight as a mundane.”

When Raphael turned around to look at Ragnor, his friend was very confused. “Are you sure?”

Raphael swished the blood in his snifter, purposefully avoiding Ragnor’s gaze. “I was the one who Turned him.”

“Raphael!”

“It was an accident and a very long story I don’t care to repeat.”

“What else aren’t you telling me?”

 _Oh, if you knew_ , Raphael thought, guilt rumbling in his chest. Thankfully, Ragnor didn’t question it further and shrugged his shoulders, reaching out to something beyond what he was projecting to Raphael. When he withdrew his arm, it was a cup of steaming tea. “Well, I suggest you start asking around about who his connections are.”

“Why?”

Ragnor raised his eyebrows as he took a sip of tea. “He had to get angel blood from somewhere, and that’s not something anyone just happens to have on hand.”

Raphael scoffed. “He probably drank from some idiot Shadowhunter.”

“The Nephilim claim to be the children of Raziel with his blood running through their veins, but in actuality, they’re nothing but watered down angels,” Ragnor said in an odd blend of annoyance and amusement. “They have enough angelic blood in them to withstand the power of runes, but not enough to create a Daylighter. You’d need pure angel ichor straight from the source.”

The blood Raphael just drank turned in his stomach as if it were rotten. If he were still alive, he was sure his skin would’ve been coated with a thin layer of cold sweat. His voice was thankfully steady, “Pure angel blood makes Daylighters?”

“An entire study was dedicated to this back in the 19th century—I was still High Warlock of London at the time,” Ragnor looked up in thought. “The Spiral Labyrinth has had a supply of angel blood for centuries and since it never goes bad, they’d never figured out what to do with it until a good friend of mine—I think you’ve met her before; her name’s Catarina Loss—she petitioned the Council to let her conduct a medical trial to study the effects of angel ichor on vampires. 

“She gathered a few willing vampires, placed them under an oath to keep the trials a secret, and gave them all a bit of angel ichor—some drank watered down blood while others drank it pure. The results were incredible: drinking it in its purest state gave you a full range of abilities, but regardless of the blood’s purity, they all could walk in the sun. That’s where the term _Daylighter_ came from.”

Raphael had to place his snifter on the coffee table in front of him; he feared he’d drop it. He had to bunch his hands up into fists to prevent them from shaking. He felt a lump forming in his throat as Ragnor continued, “I think the ones that drank the watered down blood only received a fraction of the abilities—I remember Catarina telling me it all depended on quality, not quantity. I don’t remember much, though. It was a very long time ago, and those blasted automatons were annoying me to hell and back at the time.”

“Could I speak to Catarina?” Raphael asked. “Is she available?”

“She lives in New York, actually. She’s a nurse in some mundane hospital,” Ragnor shuddered at the thought. “I can contact her and tell her I sent you. I’m sure she’s heard about this Daylighter by now and is as curious as I am.”

Raphael nodded slowly. Too many thoughts were running through his head—absurd, ridiculous thoughts—and he almost didn’t hear Ragnor clear his throat. “Now, you and I both know I wasn’t born yesterday, nor in the last three centuries.”

Raphael looked up to meet his eyes. Ragnor was his friend, but was also like his father. He knew when something was up, especially when Raphael looked as if he was going to empty his stomach all over the carpet. Raphael couldn’t keep his secret anymore. “I’m a Daylighter too.”

Ragnor frowned. Thankfully, he didn’t seem upset that Raphael had kept this secret from him. He most likely understood, and that’s why Raphael admired him so much. He didn’t have to say much for Ragnor to know why he did the things he did, or what the consequences of his abilities would mean for the vampire community, for the vampires under his watch. Ragnor spoke calmly, “Where did you get the angel blood, Raphael?” 

“I drank from Eva.”

“I told you—”

“I drank from Eva because she was poisoned by a Greater Demon and she was dying—my saliva neutralized the poison enough to save her,” Raphael said, choking at the memory of Eva’s gushing wound, her fluttering eyelids as death beckoned her to sleep. “And the Silent Brothers that healed her came to me that same night and told me what hurt me would hurt me no longer—I assumed it was Shadowhunter blood, but they knew the truth—”

“The Brotherhood is aware of how Daylighters are truly made,” Ragnor said. “The Labyrinth has a centuries old agreement with them that any discovery angelic in nature must be reported to the Silent City.”

“But those same two Silent Brothers are under an oath to protect Eva from Valentine Morgentern—an oath someone else put on them,” Raphael said. The puzzle pieces were beginning to fall into place, but so many were still missing. The complete image still couldn’t be seen. “They can’t say anything about what Eva is, or how she came to be. They personally told her this.”

“Did the other Daylighter drink from her too?”

“No, he drank from Valentine’s son.”

A moment of silence wafted between them until Ragnor spoke, “I don’t think these are all coincidences, Raphael.”

“I don’t believe in coincidences.”

“Neither do I,” Ragnor said firmly. “How can I help?”

“Contact Catarina Loss and tell her I want to see her tonight,” Raphael stood from the couch. “Valentine experimented on his children and somehow Eva is involved, and knowing that Starkweather was loyal to Valentine—”

“Starkweather?”

“Hodge Starkweather was their tutor and he betrayed them to Valentine; I mentioned this to you.”

“Yes, but what does he have to do with anything?”

“Apparently, Eva looks exactly like his late wife Marigold. She died in a fire with their son back before the Uprising.” Raphael began walking towards his closet to look for his jacket. Ragnor’s projection followed him like a transparent ghost. “Eva thinks she might be related to Marigold’s family, but she’d Ascended and Eva was Nephilim when she was found by the Brothers so it doesn’t make any sense.”

Ragnor was silent as Raphael threw his jacket on hastily. When he straightened his collar and turned around, the warlock was deep in thought and looking much paler than the projection made him seem. Raphael raised his eyebrows. “Ragnor?”

“That fire.” Ragnor spoke slowly, his voice tight with what Raphael could only describe as horror. “Did it shoot up into the sky like a vortex?”

Raphael nodded, remembering Eva saying Maryse Lightwood described it as such. Ragnor continued, “I remember that fire; I saw it from my house in Idris, but I didn’t know it was the Starkweather manor nor did I care to find out whose house it was. I left for London that same day because I didn’t want the Clave to even think of approaching me to help them with their investigation.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Raphael scoffed in mild amusement. Ragnor was adamant to stay out of Nephilim affairs, even if they paid him. It was a shock he even agreed to teach at the Shadowhunter Academy while it was still open or even bought a house on their land. 

“No, you don’t understand,” Ragnor said gravely. His eyes were wide and spooked. “I didn’t want to get involved because I thought some idiot was trying to be the next Jonathan Shadowhunter and I wasn’t about to get caught up in that mess.”

Raphael’s eyes widened. He immediately understood what Ragnor was implying, but he couldn’t fathom it. “Are you _sure_?”

“Only a very pissed off angel could’ve made that spectacle,” Ragnor said. “What burned down that manor and shot up into the sky was heavenly fire.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	26. Conspiracy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The oath is lifted

“Eva?”

Eva looked up to see Alec entering the greenhouse, his hands clasped behind his back in discomfort. His deep blue eyes looked like stained glass against the subtle glow of twilight seeping into the greenhouse and his ink black hair shone like a polished onyx stone. He wore one of his tattered sweaters and jeans with boots. Typical Alec Lightwood.

“What’s up?” Eva closed the jar of chamomile she was letting rest for a conditioner she was planning to make. “Judging by how uncomfortable you look, you’re about to ask me something personal.”

Alec’s face pinched in a frown, which told her she hit the mark. Nevertheless, the young man cleared his throat. “I’ve been...” he bit his lip. “You know Magnus Bane?”

“The warlock, yes.”

“You know we’ve been dating?”

“I think everyone knows, maybe except your parents.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’ve been with Raphael for more than a year, right?”

“Unfortunately.”

“How do you do it?” Alec asked, and when she gave him a confused look, he said, “They’re immortal, and we’ll die eventually. How do you just ignore that?”

“We don’t...” Eva trailed off, blinking in sudden realization. “Come to think of it, we’ve never actually talked about that.”

Alec looked flabbergasted. “How? It’s the biggest elephant in the room—at least for me!”

“I’ve never given it much thought,” Eva said with a shrug of her shoulders. She began walking down the path through the many plants in the greenhouse. Alec followed at her heels like a puppy. “And Raphael hasn’t either, apparently.”

“Magnus has to be more than two hundred years old—he refuses to tell me, but I know,” Alec said. “And when I start growing old, he’ll probably get bored or grossed out and leave me.”

“He told you that?”

“No, I assume—”

“Don’t assume things, Alec,” she warned him gently. “If he truly loves you, he’ll stay with you for as long as you live.”

“My lifetime is a single drop in his ocean.”

“Did you come to me for advice, or to vent?” Eva poked his arm playfully. “Look, I think there’s one major thing you have to come to terms with.”

“Which is?”

“You have to accept that you’re gay,” Eva told him. The boldness of her statement made him blush and look down at his boots. “The Clave is backwards and stupid but they might come around one day, but you can’t wait until they do. You have to make the decision to either keep burying down who you are and lose the person you love, or accept who you are and let yourself love Magnus.”

“But what will my parents think?”

“They’ll probably be disappointed.” She was truthful. She could feel his conflicting emotions, and she knew all of this overthinking—which was to be expected from Alec—was due to his growing love for the warlock. He wanted to please his parents, but he wanted Magnus too, and he couldn’t have both. She never thought Alec would fall head over heels like this. “But you’re their son. They love you, and they’ll learn to accept you the way you are.”

Alec brooded with that frown that darkened his blue eyes. Eva smiled, “And the thing about immortality—just talk to him about it. Tell him how you feel. Did you ever consider how he might feel knowing that one day he’ll lose you?”

“No,” Alec shook his head. “I just figured he’d move on.”

“Being immortal is a blessing and curse—you’re destined to watch the world evolve and grow, but you’re forced to watch the people you love die,” Eva said. “Raphael’s words, not mine.”

“I thought you said you never talked about this.”

“It was about his family.” Eva recalled how Raphael spoke to her about his mother, Guadalupe, and how she would’ve loved her. How she would’ve been flattered Eva liked Mexican food so much. _Hacen una bonita pareja_ , she would’ve said. “I guess immortality teaches you to accept the mortality of others—he’s never brought it up because it goes without saying.”

Alec nodded slowly in understanding. Eva smirked. “If it’s any consolation, I think Magnus is perfect for you.” When Alec frowned at her, she added, “He makes up for your seriousness, and you make up for his lack of it.”

“I guess I could say the same for you—Raphael’s just a tad less vicous when you’re around,” Alec joked dryly. “Do you think he’ll stay with you until you die?” 

“I’d like to think so.” Eva said. To her chilling shock, she’s never thought of the idea of growing old. Shadowhunters live in the moment, since many of them die young, but everyone always has a fleeting thought of perhaps growing old and maybe meeting their future grandchildren. She’s never once had that thought. It frightened her that she's never thought so far ahead. Eva shook off the strange feeling. “Talk to Magnus. You’d be surprised how much time you save when you do.”

“Easy for you to say,” Alec grumbled. 

They made their way through the corridors, Eva asking Alec questions about Magnus she knew would make him uncomfortable. She encouraged him to be himself, to accept his feelings and to grab Magnus’ butt to tell him he loves him. Alec’s cheeks were red as tomatoes when they walked into the kitchen. 

“Jace brought us dinner from Taki’s,” Isabelle announced when she saw them come in. She was wearing a tank top and jeans with some heeled boots. “I was going to make a casserole, but—”

“You can all thank me later,” Jace smirked, dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt. He cut Isabelle off on purpose, just to annoy her, and the girl glared at him pointedly. Eva nudged Jace playfully as she sat down next to Isabelle to dig into the tacos al pastor in one of the bags. Maryse came in momentarily to refill her coffee mug and took a sandwich from the take-out feast before she left to work on official Clave business. Max put his manga down long enough to eat a burger and some fries and then he fell asleep on Alec’s lap. 

Moments like these was when Eva missed Hodge. He was the glue that kept everyone together, lecturing them when they bickered or made messes, brewing tisanes and cooking delicious meals with herbs and spices he grew in the Institute gardens. His betrayal still made bitterness rise to her chest, but she’d learned to appreciate the good moments despite it. Isabelle reached over and touched Eva’s arm, silently comforting her, feeling her mixed emotions like _parabatai_ do. She appreciated the gesture and smiled softly.

Eva’s phone buzzed with a call on the tabletop. The screen lit up with the caller ID and Eva saw no point in reaching for it—Jace snatched it up like Church with a mouse and flipped it open. He did his best impression of Eva doing a baby voice, “How’s my adorable little chili pepper?”

Jace’s smirk widened as he received a response. He looked at Eva as he handed her the phone, “What’s a _pinche payaso_?”

“Rapha, that’s not nice,” Eva scolded lightly. In reality, it was an awfully nice insult compared to others in his repertoire of Mexican slang. “Is my little chili pepper in a bad mood?”

“I found the person responsible for the oath.”

Eva gasped as her stomach dropped into the basement of the Institute. The atmosphere in the room changed immediately at her sudden reaction; Jace leaned forward and Alec stood to carry Max into another room. Isabelle pressed the side of her head against the phone on Eva’s ear just as Raphael spoke, “She lifted the oath and she’s in New York already; they’re all here to see you.”

“ _They?_ ”

“Everyone involved.” Raphael choked on his words, something he never does. “This is...bigger than you thought—bigger than we all thought.”

“How much bigger?” Isabelle asked this time. Eva couldn’t form words, and she knew that. “You know everything, don’t you?”

“Yes,” he said softly. “I’ve ordered my clan to leave the Dumort for the night and not come back until dawn. I can pick you up and bring you here—”

“We’re going,” Eva stood from her chair. “I’ll meet you there. I’m coming with Alec and Jace and Izzy.”

At her words, Jace and Izzy sprung out of their chairs just as Alec entered the kitchen again. They silently explained what Raphael’s call was about and that they were heading for the Dumort as Eva turned her back to them, her voice wavering with a mixture of fear, nervousness, and anticipation. “Is it bad, Rapha? Is Valentine really out to kill me?”

“He doesn’t know you exist,” he said. “But if he saw you, he’ll realize Starkweather fooled him and he’ll be livid.”

“So Hodge is involved?”

“He’s the mastermind behind this entire conspiracy. It’s a very long story, Eva.” There was a pause between them as Eva organized her thoughts. She had so many questions and now that all were about to be answered, she didn’t know which to ask first. It was making her head spin. Raphael’s voice brought her out of her trance. “He didn’t betray you—at least, that wasn’t his intention.”

Eva wanted to feel relieved, but she didn’t really understand how giving Valentine the Mortal Cup, letting him take Jace, and attacking Clary didn’t fall under betrayal. Nevertheless, Eva took a deep breath and spoke, “I’ll be there soon.”

* * *

Eva arrived at the Dumort with Isabelle, Jace, and Alec. They were dressed in light Shadowhunter armor and only carried steles and some daggers. They weren’t riding into battle, but Nephilim never went out with at least one precautionary weapon. Raphael was waiting for them at the back entrance looking grim in a leather jacket, jeans, and polished boots. Eva noted he looked at her differently, as if a bit spooked, and when she pressed a kiss to his cold cheek, he jumped.

_What’s wrong?_

Raphael shook his head in response but didn’t let go of her hand as he led them through the carpeted hallways of the old hotel. He led them to the penthouse, furnished and decorated to be an office for the clan leader; it was mostly used to host meetings between Downworlders unfortunate enough to get mixed up with the complex politics of the Night Children. Raphael once told her he used the office exclusively to scare new fledglings being integrated into the clan. He was upset he couldn’t do so with Simon.

On the plush couches in the middle of the room was a group of people. Brother Zachariah and Brother Enoch were the first to stand out with their runed parchment robes and scarred skin. On one of the couches sat two women, who stood when Raphael entered the room with the Shadowhunters. One woman was dressed in medical scrubs. The hot pink of the fabric stood out vividly against her deep blue skin and snow-white hair pulled back into a ponytail. The second woman was tall and dressed in jeans, a cream knitted sweater, and black boots. Her wavy brown hair rested over her shoulders and a deep green pendant sparkled against the light as it rested over her chest.

“Familiar faces,” the brown-haired woman began with a smile. Her accent was American, but slightly laced with British. “My name is Tessa Gray. I’m the one who placed the oath of silence.”

“You’re a warlock?” Eva asked, subconsciously looking for her warlock mark.

“A special kind of warlock—my mother was a Shadowhunter and my father an Eidolon,” she explained but quickly changed the topic. She gestured at the blue-skinned woman. “This is Catarina Loss; I believe you two have met before.”

“I don’t think she remembers,” Catarina said in amusement. “I threw up a glamour so strong, I could’ve taken down the entire building.”

Eva frowned in confusion. Catarina refreshed her memory, “You were in Beth Israel Hospital and I called you Marigold.”

“I remember,” Eva nodded slowly, remembering the dark-skinned nurse and the shimmer of glamour at the hospital. “I knew I’d heard that name before.”

“We’ve all kept our eye on you over the years,” Tessa began. “When the Shadow World learned of Valentine’s return, we all thought of telling you the truth but we were hopeful the Clave would handle it. It clearly hasn’t happened, but I’ve been putting it off out of fear of what Valentine might do if he found out about you, of how you may react, and I’m sorry. Zachariah, Enoch, and Catarina have repeatedly asked me to tell you, but I was stubborn.”

“It took Ragnor giving you an earful, too,” Raphael said lightly.

Tessa extended her hand towards the couches, beckoning the Nephilim to take a seat. When they all settled, Eva had her hands folded tightly on her lap. Izzy sat by her side, Raphael stood nearby, and Jace and Alec sat on an adjacent couch.

“I suppose we should start with how Daylighters are made,” Catarina began. “I conducted a study way back before any of you even thought of being born, and to keep it brief, Nephilim blood is not potent enough to create a Daylighter.”

“Pure angel blood creates Daylighters,” Raphael said. “It has to be straight from the source. No exceptions.”

“We were Valentine’s experiments,” Jace nodded slowly. “Me and Clary and Eva.”

“But how did he feed you angel blood?” Alec asked. “Where did he even get it?”

“From the angel Ithuriel. Valentine summoned him, bounded him to earth with runes similar to ones you would use to trap a Greater Demon, and tortured and exsanguinated him constantly—but angels cannot die, so he had a bountiful supply of blood to use.” Tessa said in disgust and then eyed Jace. “I’m not sure how he administered the blood into you, or your sister.” Jace visibly shifted at Tessa’s words. “But you both have considerably less in your system—from what Raphael has told us, Simon can walk in the sun but can’t walk on hallowed ground and can’t touch holy artifacts while he can.”

“The quality of the blood determines the powers you gain,” Catarina said. “If a vampire was to drink the purest of angel blood—which is golden, in case you didn’t know—said vampire would gain an absurd amount of abilities that would include being able to eat mundane food without making them nauseous and being able to have children.”

“I can’t do either, don’t worry,” Raphael admitted, raising his arms in innocence. “Both have been tested and proven.” 

“So the angel blood in me is purer than Jace and Clary’s,” Eva nodded in understanding. “And you know why, don’t you?”

“Ithuriel is your father,” Tessa said. Eva felt as if the air was knocked out of her lungs all at once. Izzy squeezed Eva’s arm while Jace and Alec eyed each other in disbelief. Raphael and Catarina dipped their heads down as Tessa continued, “And your mother is Marigold Starkweather.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I would love to hear some of your theories!


	27. Immaculate Conception

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When angels shoot, they don't miss

In the summer of 1988, I had a very strange and vivid dream. I knew it wasn’t normal—there were people in that dream I’d never met, places I’d never been to, scenarios and conversations I’d never been part of. I would hear a voice speaking to me all throughout, a voice I haven’t heard in a very long time, narrating the events unfolding in my dream as if I were some invisible apparition in them.

Ithuriel sent me that dream as a distress call. There was no one else he could turn to, and frankly, I don’t blame him. You might call us old acquaintances. Do you remember that clockwork angel that’s in the library of the New York Institute? It used to be mine—Ithuriel had been trapped in there for centuries and I released him. I’m also a distant relative of the Starkweathers through my mother’s side, so it would make sense he’d turn to me for help.

To this day, that dream replays in my mind as if I was there experiencing it firsthand. I saw Hodge and Marigold’s wedding—a beautiful wedding. I saw them living happily for the first month or two of their marriage. They were happy. 

And then I saw Valentine summon Ithuriel and bind him to earth with runes and spells I didn’t know were possible for a Shadowhunter to use. Angels grow weak in our realm the longer they are here. Their glow dims, and they become frail and helpless. Valentine took full advantage of that and used the strongest binds to chain him down, torturing him, scooping out Ithuriel’s eyes with spoons and cutting him up, collecting his golden ichor, questioning him about the Mortal Instruments and unanswered secrets only God’s messengers would know. The angel did not speak, and he endured Valentine’s wrath over and over. Angels cannot die, so all he could do was endure for years.

I then saw Marigold arrive at the Fairchild manor one autumn day. Valentine answered the door and Marigold asked for Jocelyn.

_ “She said Adele was making blueberry scones and asked me to bring Hodge’s English tea blends.” Marigold held up the tin. “Am I early?” _

_ “Jocelyn and Adele will be back in a few minutes,” Valentine said and urged her inside. “My wife is a perfectionist; they went into the city to purchase some last minute ingredients for the baking.”  _

Valentine led her inside, asking about Hodge and charming her, putting her at ease as he offered her coffee he’d just brewed for himself.

_ “I’m a scholar like your husband, you see,” he said. “Hodge’s passion for literature and history has rubbed off on me—but I, unfortunately, do not have his talent for making tisanes so I must resort to coffee.” _

What Marigold drank that afternoon was not coffee. To this day, I haven’t figured out exactly what it was, but I have an idea thanks to the archives in the Spiral Labyrinth. A demonic potion brewed with the blood of the person you desire, boiled enough to make it look black as death. You lust after the person whose blood you consumed; you go mad if you’re kept away from that individual, and you’re capable of inflicting harm upon yourself if bound or held back or locked away. 

Valentine had given Marigold Ithuriel’s blood in that demonic brew, and had to hold her back with runes as he took her own blood, brewed it into that same black drink, and forced Ithuriel to drink it. Ithuriel could not leave the circle binding him to earth, and I’m certain that what he ingested would have made the cellar he was in burst into flames had Marigold not met him halfway.

You were conceived that same night. It’s called _ immaculate conception _ for a reason and Valentine knew it—“When angels shoot, they don’t miss,” as Catarina says. The effects wore off quickly afterward, and Marigold began to recall what occurred; she was horrified. She apologized profusely to Ithuriel, who I’m sure she still didn’t believe was in front of her, looking just as guilty even without any eyes to show his grief.

Valentine blackmailed her.

_ “You’ve laid with an angel, Marigold. That’s sacrilege—you’ll face Heaven’s wrath upon your death most likely. And even if you do tell your husband of the child you carry, which I can tell you with certainty you do, he will never believe you. Me, his loyal friend, capable of summoning an all-powerful angel and trapping him on earth? Me, capable of drugging his wife? Not to mention telling him the child inside you is an angel’s and not his, as if you were Mary of Nazareth carrying the son of God. You’re better off telling him you cheated on him, if you’re going to tell him, that is.”  _

Valentine tried to bring Marigold into the Circle after she married Hodge. He thought she’d be easily swayed—a mundane who’d recently Ascended and knew nothing of how the Shadow World operated was an easy target. But he was wrong, and Marigold saw him for what he was but chose to say nothing and kill him with kindness, to simply lie to Hodge and tell him that she didn’t mind he was part of the Circle, refusing to join every time Valentine asked her to, or when he’d send Hodge to do his begging. 

Valentine couldn’t have her loyalty as a member of the Circle, so he achieved it through blackmail. And that blackmail was you, Evangeline.

After my dream, I searched the entirety of the Labyrinth looking for some record of an angel conceiving a child with a mortal woman. I found nothing and turned to Brother Zachariah, whom I trust with my life, and told him everything. He was willing to help at all costs, but he did not have access to such confidential archives in the Silent City. However, his superior, Brother Enoch, did. Thankfully, Enoch understood the necessity to keep this a secret and produced the archives we were looking for. 

There has only ever been one account of an angel producing a child with a mortal woman, and I found it quite ironic Valentine mentioned it without knowing the weight of his words. All the stories are true, except this one.

Mary of Nazareth did not carry the son of God; she carried the son of the Archangel Gabriel. The archives Enoch pulled were written by David the Silent himself, straight from the mouth of Raziel as he gave Jonathan Shadowhunter the Mortal Instruments and the Gray Book. Raziel spoke this tale to Jonathan and his companions, explaining why angels refuse to manifest on earth and why they’ve grown indifferent to the qualms of man.

Heaven once wished to bridge the gap between their realm and the mortal realm. It takes considerable strength and rank to maintain a corporal form on earth and an angel in all its glory can kill a mortal with a single glance. They needed someone of both worlds—not entirely mortal, but not entirely divine. Archangel Gabriel was handpicked by God, and he was sent down to Mary of Nazareth which Heaven agreed was a woman of good heart and soul. They conceived a son named Jesus, and he grew into a man knowing what he was and his purpose. But Jesus’ gospel was taken as blasphemy and lies, and he was executed upon a cross as a criminal and a deviant. Upon his death, he Ascended to Heaven, and one can assume he spoke of what had been done to him. Heaven was outraged and God forbid any interaction between angels and man. 

Now, why Raziel was allowed to appear before Jonathan Shadowhunter, I have no idea. It isn’t stated in any archive, so we can all assume he chose to omit it for a reason. The Nephilim were created since that day, but angels are still unattached to this world. 

The reason I didn’t find this archive in the Labyrinth was because it was filed under legends and myths. It’s considered a very obscure retelling of the origins of Jesus and not considered truth. After he Ascended, his apostles began spreading the word that he was the son of God, rather than of the Archangel Gabriel; the story became altered through the centuries and written and rewritten until no one knew what really occurred except those involved. The Silent City has a copy because it was told to David the Silent by Raziel, and the Spiral Labyrinth has it because a warlock heard the story many centuries ago and decided to transcribe and archive it.

I can only assume Valentine wished to use you as some kind of weapon. A child of a Nephilim and an angel could very well have extraordinary powers and could even claim a place in Heaven through their blood, and all Valentine wanted was control and power. He was no doubt going to use his influence over Hodge and his blackmail over Marigold to lay claim over you and influence you in every way he could. I could not let this happen.

I traveled to Idris and met Marigold at the Starkweather manor. She still wasn’t showing signs of a pregnant belly, and she looked dreadful. She looked like she barely ate, barely slept, and was in a terrible mood. I explained who I was and I told her I knew everything, and she cried on my lap. 

_ “He thinks it’s his child, and he tells everyone with such joy. I know he’s ecstatic, but all I see is that son of a bitch looking pleased with himself that he’s gotten away with it—that he has control over me.” _

I convinced her to tell Hodge, that I would protect her in the event he turned on her. When Hodge returned from a Circle meeting that evening, Marigold and I told him everything. Hodge was livid that Valentine would do such a thing and vowed to take revenge on what he’d done to his wife, to his family. I’d say Hodge was the first person in the Circle to see Valentine for the monster he was. 

He came up with this conspiracy, as you call it. He didn’t want you anywhere near Valentine’s influence, so he suggested we fake some sort of catastrophe, something only an angel was capable of, to fool him and discourage him from attempting something like this ever again.

I brought in Brother Enoch and Brother Zachariah once again, and I brought in Catarina who is my close confidant and an expert in the medical field. Only we knew of what was to occur, and I placed an oath of silence upon everyone—no one was to speak of what we were planning and who you really were or how you came to be. It was the only way to protect your secret if we one day fell into the wrong hands.

Hodge suggested Catarina and I summon heavenly fire as the catastrophe. It can be done, but heavenly fire is dangerous and only angels can control it with precision. We decided we were going to summon an angel to ask for advice on the matter. We couldn’t summon Ithuriel since we doubted Valentine would let him go so easily, so we decided to summon the only angel who would understand: the Archangel Gabriel.

I’m lucky to say I’ve seen two angels in my life when it is rare on its own to say you’ve seen one. Gabriel was glorious, to the point where you want to cry and fall on your knees from how insignificant you feel in his presence. Thankfully, he didn’t kill us on sight for his summons and let us explain everything. He was appalled and told us he’d carry this message back to Heaven and that they would be watching. He then gave us a vase infused with heavenly fire, instructing us that when shattered, the wrath of Heaven would burst from it.

The months went by, and eventually, Catarina performed a C-section on the 40th week of Marigold’s pregnancy. Brother Enoch and Brother Zachariah recorded the birth of a baby boy named James Johann Starkweather in the official Nephilim archives, and Zachariah and Sister Emilia performed your protection ritual. She is an acquaintance of Zachariah’s, and he knew she would ask no questions.

The next phase of the plan was for you to be taken away and placed as an orphaned Nephilim somewhere in the world. Zachariah decided he would bear this burden and tell none of us, as it would protect everyone. 

The plan was to set the Starkweather manor ablaze with heavenly fire and have Hodge and Marigold narrowly make it out alive, say that they must’ve left something on, and fool Valentine. But Marigold died in that fire and judging by how distressed Hodge was, this was not planned. He never told us what really occurred, and even though the Silent Brothers and the Clave investigated the scene, no one really knows what happened. 

A few years went by and the Uprising occurred. Hodge was arrested but given leniency along with the Lightwoods. They were punished by having to run the New York Institute, while he was cursed to never step foot outside for the rest of his life. The moment they all arrived to live out their exile, the New York conclave informed them of an orphan that lived there. She was about three years old and was found by the Silent Brothers on the steps of the New York City Marble Cemetery entrance. 

All Hodge had to do was take a glance at you to realize it was you. He contacted us immediately and Zachariah confirmed it. He’d chosen New York specifically because Church lived there—yes, Church is his cat, or was. Unfortunately, the Silent City doesn’t accommodate pets.

Since then, Brother Zachariah and Brother Enoch have been exclusively assigned to tend to your needs. I’m sure you’ve noticed they’re the only Silent Brothers that ever seem to answer a summons from New York. Enoch gave you your first runes and performed your  _ parabatai _ ceremony. We didn’t know how your angel blood would react to runes, or how you would develop, but thankfully, all you seemed to have inherited was the ability to speak the Language of Thoughts without having to go through the painful methods of the Brotherhood, and name your seraph blade Raziel without bursting into flames. Catarina moved to New York and began working at Beth Israel Hospital to be nearby. and I usually spent my time in the Spiral Labyrinth, but I was always a call away.

All I can say is I’m sorry for keeping this from you for so long. Hodge insisted that you were better off not knowing, and while he always knew Valentine wasn’t dead—he faked his death by burning the Fairchild manor; Hodge always did say Valentine was anything but original—and that it was beneficial to keep you close. When his curse was broken and he disappeared, everyone wanted me to tell you the truth. I wanted to believe Valentine would be dealt with, but you came too close to being seen that night on the ship over the East River. If he saw you, he’d know instantly what really occurred. He’ll know Hodge fooled him, the Hodge he believed—still believes—is a blind and loyal follower.

You look exactly like Marigold, except for the eyes—you inherited your father’s golden eyes. It seems angel genes aren’t as strong as one might think.


	28. Page 526

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not a Harry Potter reference

Moonlight streamed through the small, barred window facing the evergreen fields of the Gard. It was deathly quiet—no crickets, no voices, no whistling wind. It had rained earlier, and humidity suffocated the inside of the cell along with the pungent smell of wet soil. 

Watching the raindrops slowly drip from the top of the window and pool into a puddle on the floor was the most entertainment Hodge received for the day. He counted them—exactly 67 before they stopped entirely. The guards brought him a pathetic dinner of bread and cheese with some water, tossing it under the cell door haphazardly. Hodge would give anything for some tea; any kind would do. Even terribly brewed tea with nothing to sweeten it.

His life was filled with wrong decisions, and now was no different. He always made the wrong choice, even when the better one stared him right in the face. He didn’t  _ have _ to agree to Valentine’s deal to exchange the Mortal Cup for his freedom, but he did. He didn’t  _ have _ to continue being Valentine’s friend back before the Uprising, but he did. He was a walking collection of regrets—it seems the only thing he  _ doesn’t  _ regret in his life was marrying Marigold.

The look of betrayal on Eva’s face was permanently etched into his memory. He should’ve taken the time to explain why he’d done what he’d done. Perhaps he should’ve told her what she was when she became an adult. Perhaps he shouldn’t have kept so many secrets from her, and insisted no one ever say a thing about how much she looked like Marigold. It was easier, but it was also a truth that would eventually reach her ears.

He couldn’t fathom the hurt he caused her. The hate that probably surged through her veins at the mere thought of him. How the Lightwood children must hate him as well, how Jace must despise him for turning him over to Valentine. He tried his best to raise him alongside Eva, the two orphans under his watch. Jace was Valentine’s child, but he never knew which one. It was hard to tell, and like Eva, he decided keeping it a secret would be best.

Another bad decision. 

Hodge rubbed his eyes, shaking off the sleep and the tears welled up in them. He barely slept nowadays—when it wasn’t his recurring dream of Marigold bursting into flames it was a replay of what occurred in the alleyway with Eva. Sometimes he watched the scene happen, as if he weren’t part of it, and other times he viewed it through his own eyes.

Despite his best attempts to fight his weariness, the stillness of the night and the steady moonlight and the warmth of summer was lulling him to sleep. In the distance, he could hear a voice calling his name. It was a harsh whisper, in a voice that was all too familiar. He didn’t pay too much attention to it as his eyes fluttered, but when he heard the voice suddenly grow sharp in tone and in proximity, his head shot up.

“Hodge!”

Shadows danced in his cell, disrupting the moonlight. He pulled himself up, wincing at the stiffness of his injured shoulder. He neared the window, situated above his line of sight. He could see two forms looking down at him, but they were blurry beyond recognition. When he was arrested, the guards snatched his glasses to purposefully blind him, just to be cruel. He’s gone weeks without seeing anything clearly.

“Hodge! It’s me,” the voice continued in a whisper. Hodge squinted, but he knew that voice. He simply couldn’t believe she was here. “It’s Eva.”

“And Isabelle,” the figure beside Eva laughed. “You look dreadful, by the way.”

Hodge couldn’t speak; he would simply open his mouth but no words escaped him. He saw Eva’s hand reach through the bars, beckoning him to take it. He did, and they were delightfully warm against his cold skin. 

“I know everything,” she said. Hodge felt as if someone had doused him in ice water. “And I don’t hate you. I never did, despite everything. I couldn’t.”

“How are you here?” Hodge finally asked. His voice was wavering as he clenched her hand. “How did you know I was down here?”

“Brother Enoch found out for us,” Isabelle chimed in. “Took him, what? An hour?”

“But how did you get into the city?”

“We’re Shadowhunters,” Eva laughed softly. “C’mon, you taught us this.”

Hodge frowned, making the girls laugh. Eva continued, “It’s a long story, but we’re here to break you out. You don’t belong in there.”

Eva let go of his hand and Hodge watched their blurry forms straighten, draw back, and deliver blows to the bars on the window with their boots. By the third kick, there were no bars left on the window and both girls reached out and hauled him out onto the grass. Hodge felt a bit embarrassed they did so very easily; he was a grown man, but he’s been virtually starved and has lost a lot of weight. 

Isabelle’s voice was tight with a wince. “You reek, Hodge.”

“I missed you as well,” Hodge said with a smile. He knew Isabelle’s way of showing affection was to insult or act aloof. It meant the world to him. Eva’s way of showing affection was much more straightforward; she wrapped her arms around his thin waist and hugged him. Hodge clenched his jaw to hold back a sob of joy. She didn’t hate him.

“As heartwarming as this is, we need to get the hell out of here,” Isabelle patted their shoulders. “You two can suffocate each other later.”

Hodge held onto Eva’s gear jacket as they weaved through the city streets, hiding in the shadows like their namesake. Hodge could see the blurry dot of what appeared to be a full moon in the dark sky, and judging by how quiet and deserted the streets were, it must be very late.

Had he been wearing his glasses, he would have known where they were going. He walked these streets enough to know, and only until they pushed open the gate of the townhouse and he recognized the stone pathway did he realize this was his second home. The Starkweather house within the city.

His skin crawled when he stepped through the threshold. Part of the plan was to live in this townhouse with Marigold after the fire destroyed their manor and took their son with it. Alas, it didn’t go as planned, and Hodge spent the darkest moments of his life on the kitchen floor—he couldn’t stand being in the living room because the sight of the fireplace would throw him into a fit. 

Hodge expected the house to be dusty and dark, with the smell of old and worn furniture. The latter hit his nose rather quickly, but there was a soft light flickering past the drawing room. When they led him into the living room, Hodge distinguished two more figures.

“Jace and Alec, in case you can’t see them,” Eva said, and turned her head towards the boys. “They took his glasses.”

“And we all know Hodge can’t see past his nose,” Jace said jokingly. Hodge’s shoulders stiffened, the pain of his injury dulled by the utter despair he felt at hearing Jace’s voice. He let Valentine take him, trading him for the Mortal Cup and betraying him and his family. Jace seemed to notice his change in demeanor and added, “The ends justify the means, Hodge. You did it for Eva, so I can look past you betraying everyone and tossing me over to Valentine like I was a sack of potatoes.”

Alec nudged Jace, making Hodge smile. These were his children, and they hadn’t changed a bit. He was glad for it.

“We have a few hours until daybreak,” Eva said. “Enoch said they change guards down in the prison cells just after sunrise, so we have until then.” 

“We brought you one of your old suits,” Isabelle pointed down the hallway that led to the bedrooms upstairs. “Please shower, and throw on some perfume. I brought vanilla—”

“Raziel help us,” Jace groaned. “Or should we ask Ithuriel for help?”

Hodge wanted to stay and ask these rambunctious children how they managed to get to Alicante and orchestrate this jailbreak or how they even found out about Eva’s true origin, but he pushed it all aside. His body was weary with the thought of freedom and a hot shower. Perhaps it was hunger too. He took what felt like hours in the shower, washing his hair and shaving off the beard he grew out in that cell—they really thought of everything. His hair was too long for his liking, but he made do. The suit they brought him was on a hanger on the bathroom door and fit him very loosely due to his weight loss. He was normally frail and skinny—he’d have to eat truckloads of food to gain it all back.

When he walked back into the living room, he found it empty. The lone flickering candle had been moved into the adjacent room, into the kitchen, and he followed it to see four blurry figures huddled around something on what Hodge assumed was a very dusty counter.

“We’re dying the grey out of your hair,” Isabelle announced as she pushed him into one of the kitchen chairs. “And cutting it too. You look like Alec when he went through that rocker phase.”

“Rocker phase?” Alec piped up, his tone pitched with offense. 

Hodge took this opportunity to finally question—and lecture—these troublemakers. “This is against the Law! How did you—”

“We had a lot of help,” Eva said, dragging a chair to sit in front of him. Isabelle was snipping away at his hair and he prayed to the Angel she was doing a decent job. “After Tessa told us everything, I said we had to find you. They didn’t know where you ran off to after Valentine broke your curse, but Enoch asked a few of his sources and found out you went to the Clave to warn them of Valentine’s plans to attack Alicante.”

“A stupid decision,” Hodge nodded, averting his eyes. “I couldn’t possibly turn to Tessa or Catarina or the Silent Brothers after I...I thought they’d see me as a traitor, and I wouldn’t blame them.”

“The Clave didn’t believe you,” Alec said, straight to the point. “So they tossed you into the dungeons of the Gard since then.”

“I didn’t want to tell them everything—Valentine’s spies are everywhere.” Hodge felt Izzy dabbing at the roots of his hair with the slimy black dye. “But I know what Valentine plans to do. He plans to summon Raziel using the Mortal Instruments.”

“He already has the Cup and the Sword,” Jace said. “Does he have the Mirror?”

“The Mirror is Lake Lyn; the information was lost to time. That’s why he tortured Ithuriel for all those years.” Hodge met Eva’s golden eyes; they looked like two blurry halos in the candlelight. “But Ithuriel never said a word, so he thought the next best plan was to create a Nephilim-Angel hybrid that he could use to destroy Downworlders and control the Clave.”

“So I was born as a result,” Eva said, though Hodge could trace no bitterness in her words. She seemed to be accepting of what she was, or perhaps it still hadn’t sunk in. “But how does that explain the angel blood in Jace and Clary?”

Hodge cleared his throat awkwardly, thinking of the best way to say things without exposing the vile acts he had to do while he was fooling Valentine into believing he was loyal. “After the fire, I told Valentine it started in the nursery. He believed me, and he thought my son had lost control of his angelic abilities like how a warlock child would. I can only assume he found a way to administer the blood to Jace and Clary another way that was less...direct.”

Silence fell upon the room as they brooded. Izzy had finished smearing hair dye over his greying roots and stood next to Eva, offering her  _ parabatai _ strength with her proximity. There were things Hodge didn’t want to get into, and he knew that if they kept poking him with questions, he’d have to either reveal truths or lie, and he didn’t wish to lie anymore. Instead, he asked how they planned all this, and what they planned to do at dawn.

“Raphael and Tessa know a warlock that lives just outside of Alicante,” Eva began. “He and Tessa opened a Portal for us and we walked into the city—we’re Nephilim, so the guards at the gate let us through. We split up at Angel Square; Alec and Jace came here—Zachariah told us where the Starkweather house was and that it hadn’t been bought because...well, no one wants it—and Izzy and I went to break you out and bring you here. When you showered and shaved, we were going to dye your hair black and then walk out of the city at dawn—”

“Just walk out?” Hodge interrupted gently. “I’m a fugitive of the Law, and you’re  _ harboring _ a fugitive.”

“In his own home,” Jace added with a smirk. “Because technically, it still is.”

“Brother Enoch told us no one knows you’re down there except the Inquisitor and the Consul,” Alec chimed in. “And the guards were never told who you were—you’re just a prisoner.”

“So you’re sneaking out of the city right under their noses,” Izzy grinned mischievously. How she loved to break the rules, even if it meant breaking the Law. “Dying your hair is a precaution—you’ve gotten more grey than I remember.”

“After we leave Alicante, we’ll meet up at Ragnor’s, and he’ll open the Portal back to New York,” Eva smiled meekly. “But since Maryse and Robert are at the Institute, I convinced Raphael to let you stay at the Dumort for the time being.”

“I find it dubious he agreed so easily,” Hodge frowned.

“It took a lot of  _ convincing _ ,” Jace teased. “A few hours worth—I was impressed.”

“Shut up!” Eva tossed the empty box of hair dye at him. He simply laughed. 

Hodge chose to ignore the suggestiveness of Jace’s words and let his mind wander. He hasn’t been in this house since the Uprising. The Clave didn’t let him come here after he was arrested—he was simply sentenced, cursed, and shipped off to New York. He spoke so softly, his voice was barely a whisper. He was desperately trying not to have it waver in grief.

“In the library upstairs,” Hodge began. “There’s a copy of  _ Shakespeare’s Sonnets _ . Open it to page 526.”

Without a word, Alec pushed off the kitchen counter and silently walked out of the room, Jace at his heels. As their footsteps faded down the hall and up the stairs, Hodge smiled softly. “Do you know what that number is? Did Tessa tell you?”

When Eva shook her head, Hodge smiled, “It’s your birthday: May 26, 1989.”

“But—”

“We celebrated your birthday in the summer because you were found by the Silent Brothers then, but you were born in the spring. Why do you think I always gave you gifts on that day?”

“I never noticed,” Eva sniffled with a smile. 

Alec and Jace returned, the latter holding a small square paper in his hand. He approached Eva and handed it to her. Hodge didn’t need glasses to see her jaw dropped a bit.

“By the Angel, you do look like her,” Izzy gasped. “You look so young, Hodge!”

“Well, I wasn’t born looking like this,” he said, pointing at his hair smeared with hair dye, making him look like he’d rolled in a puddle of mud and oil. Eva handed him the picture and despite having to hold the picture up close to his face, Hodge remembered it clearly as if it were yesterday.

It was a picture of him and Marigold in one of the many blooming wildflower gardens of the Idris countryside. Marigold was carrying a two-month old Eva, dressed in boy’s overalls and a flat cap. She was chewing on her fists and Hodge remembered she wouldn’t stop gurgling and cooing as a very pregnant Maryse took the picture.

“Let’s wash out your hair,” Izzy patted Hodge’s shoulders. “I hope the color came out even...”

“And then we wait for sunrise and we head over to Ragnor’s,” Eva grinned. “He wasn’t very pleased to see four Shadowhunters in his living room so late at night.”

Jace let out an amused laugh. “And I’m sure he’ll just love to see  _ five _ Shadowhunters knocking on his door at the ass-crack of dawn.”


	29. Earl Grey and Waffles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakfast at Ragnor's

The skies of Alicante were a beautiful deep purple when they headed out of the Starkweather townhouse. Hodge resisted the urge to take all of the books in the library upstairs; he had many first editions he’d secretly moved from the manor in preparation for the fire. He didn’t want to think about the days leading up to that fire.

The streets were empty, and Hodge resented the Clave for taking his glasses. Alicante at dusk was just as beautiful as it was at sunset. Alas, all he saw were blurry shadows where houses were and specks of glowing light where the glass towers stood watch. He was holding onto Eva’s elbow as they crossed one of the many bridges, as if he wasn’t a fugitive and Eva his accomplice. Just two Shadowhunters out for an early stroll. 

Alec, Izzy, and Jace split from them to exit the city via the northern gate while Eva and Hodge went for the western gate. It was mostly precautionary in case anyone recognized them or to provide alibis should the need arise. Hodge was shocked these children could come up with something so complex, but he chastised himself. These _ children _ were nearly adults now—officially, Alec and Eva were adults under the Law, but Isabelle and Jace were as mature as any adult when the time called for it. Unfortunately, Nephilim rarely had a childhood and grew up far too quickly.

Hodge was nervous as they approached the western gate. There were two sleepy looking Shadowhunters fully armed and geared in black standing on either side. They lifted their heads at hearing their footsteps, scanned them both with their eyes, and greeted them kindly.

“I can’t imagine why anyone would wake up at this hour willingly,” one of them said through a yawn. “Where are you two headed?”

Eva opened her mouth to speak, but Hodge beat her to it. “The outskirts of Brocelind Forest. It rained last night, and on the morning after a rainshower, lembas mushrooms sprout under rowan trees. When they’re cooked correctly, they can fill your stomach for an entire day.”

“I could use one of those right now,” the other Shadowhunter chuckled softly. “Good luck.”

They walked through the gate and when they were just out of earshot, Eva burst into laughter. “Lembas? Like Elven bread?”

“I attempted to make a recipe for your mother once after she drove me insane,” Hodge smiled at the memory. “She wasn’t impressed by my baking skills.”

Eva smiled a sad smile, likely feeling the pain he projected to her. As they waited for dusk at the townhouse, she filled him in on what he’d missed out on. She told him about Simon Lewis becoming a vampire—his sire none other than Raphael—and Eva’s ability to sense emotions leading to her ability to speak the Language of Thoughts. She showed him the foreign rune on her arm and even touched his mind, making him nearly jump out of his skin. 

“What was she like?” Eva asked, kicking a rock down the path they walked on. They were meeting the others at Ragnor Fell’s house, a warlock that lived in the outskirts of Alicante and helped them Portal into Idris. “Marigold?”

“She was perfection.” Hodge said it without second thought. It was the truth. “She was so lively, so passionate about everything she did and such a selfless person. I was lucky to have her love; I certainly didn’t deserve it after everything I put her through.” 

“You didn’t—”

“I insisted on keeping Valentine in our lives; I was blind to how evil he truly was, and Marigold saw it all,” he sighed. “I ignored the signs. She suffered because of me.”

“I’m sure she wouldn’t blame you.”

“She should,” Hodge said. “And I hope she did.”

They walked in silence for a few minutes before Eva asked the question he knew was coming. “What happened in the fire?”

“It’s a long story, and it’s one I’d rather tell without interruptions,” Hodge said, slowing his pace for emphasis. “I’ve never...spoken of it. I’ve never had to say it aloud. I’ve never been able to.”

Just saying those words made his throat burn with tears and his voice falter. He was still haunted by it even after all these years; the guilt and the darkness and the nightmares that suffocated him in the weeks and months that followed. He went so long without eating, or sleeping, or showering, or even seeing the sun. No one visited him, except for Valentine, and he knew it was only to ask carefully pointed questions in order to piece the events of the fire together. Thankfully, it wasn’t hard to fool him when you were a shattered, empty shell of regrets and grief.

“Okay,” Eva nodded. “I understand.”

Hodge stopped walking, making her do the same. She looked at him longingly as he weighed his options in his head, debating on whether to say this crucial piece of information, or keep holding onto it and possibly regretting it later. As he always did.

“But I will say this,” Hodge started carefully. He didn’t need glasses to see Eva’s eyes go wide. “There’s a chance Jace may not be Valentine’s son.”

Eva remained silent, letting him explain. Hodge did. “After the fire and after I recovered somewhat, I had to play the role of idiot zealot. I had to make Valentine believe I thought the Clave was responsible for Marigold’s death, and that I was unquestionably loyal to him.” Hodge chose his next words carefully. “Stephen Herondale was one of the Circle members, and he was beginning to lose faith in Valentine, and so Valentine had him killed.”

“Maryse and Robert told me about him,” Eva said. “He was Inquisitor Herondale’s son, and he was married to Luke’s sister, but Valentine split them up and had Stephen marry another woman named Celine.”

“When Stephen died, she was pregnant with their son, and she…” Hodge swallowed at the lump in his throat. “She killed herself, but Valentine and I arrived in time to cut her son out of her womb—well, I did. Valentine watched.”

“And that baby is Jace?”

“This happened a bit before the Uprising and Valentine and Jocelyn’s son had already been born.” Hodge recalled the child with his white-blonde hair playing with Alec as toddlers. “I took care of the child for a few days and then I never saw him again after Valentine took him. When Jace arrived at the Institute, I received a letter from Valentine telling me  _ Jonathan was his son _ but I didn’t know which Jonathan he was referring to—his adopted son, or his biological son.”

“Does Jace look like Stephen? Or more like Valentine? Or Celine?”

“It’s hard to tell; Stephen and Celine were blonde with blue eyes, and Valentine is blonde with dark eyes and Jace certainly bears no resemblance to Jocelyn. He doesn’t look like anyone.”

“He’s one of a kind,” Eva said with an amused roll of her eyes. “He’d be thrilled to hear that.”

Hodge let out an amuse chuckle, but it quickly died in his throat. “I’ve kept many secrets from all of you, and I’m trying to make amends. But I don’t think telling Jace this would help him in any way.”

“It wouldn’t,” Eva shook her head. “He’s catastrophically in love with Clary, and he’ll grasp at anything to be with her. I don’t want to get his hopes up and cause them both more grief in the long run.”

“I don’t know where the other one is,” Hodge added. “The other Jonathan. As far as the Clave knows, his son burned to death in the Fairchild manor.”

“Tessa told me you thought that was unoriginal of Valentine,” Eva smiled softly. Hodge saw her attempt to lighten the mood, despite how morbid it was. 

“What he’s attempting to do is nothing new in the eyes of history,” Hodge said. “But they always say history repeats itself, and now is no exception.”

* * *

The sun was halfway up the horizon when they arrived at Ragnor’s house. It was a cozy cottage tucked into a field of pine trees with a stone walkway and potted plants. The chimney was spewing grey smoke in the shape of animals and when they neared the cottage, the smoke began to take the form of exclamation marks.

The door opened for them when they arrived at the front porch. Hodge followed Eva through the threshold and the delicious smell of breakfast hit him full force. It made him remember he hadn’t had a proper meal in weeks and his stomach gnawed at the thought of something that wasn’t bland or cold. 

The first person to approach them in the sitting room was none other than Raphael. Hodge didn’t need clear vision to recognize him in his simple t-shirt, leather jacket, and jeans with expensive boots. He also didn’t need glasses to see his face was pinched in a frown.

“You took longer than the others,” Raphael began. “Isabelle said you were fine, but I’m not an optimist.”

“I know.” Eva approached him to press a kiss to his cheek. “You remember Hodge, right?”

Hodge expected a snarky remark, or perhaps a backhanded compliment or a complaint on how breaking him out of prison was putting Eva in danger. Instead, Raphael stepped forward, looking straight into his eyes as if he wanted to hypnotize him with an  _ encanto _ , and extended his hand. Hodge stared incredulously, but understood. He took Raphael’s hand and gave him a firm shake. 

A silent acknowledgement.

Raphael awkwardly pulled his hand away and cleared his throat. “Everyone’s in the kitchen. Ragnor made waffles.”

Hodge was reminded of the breakfast table in the Institute, when he’d cook for everyone and keep them from bickering and making a mess. Now was no different as Jace kept taking bacon strips from Isabelle’s plate and the girl complaining while her brother tried to calm the situation. Only this time, it was a very green warlock in a dressing gown and pajamas dishing out scoldings and scraping bacon off a pan and onto a plate.

“I never thought I’d be cooking for Nephilim!” Ragnor scoffed and caught eyes with Raphael, Eva, and Hodge at the entryway of the kitchen. He pointed a greasy spatula at them. “This is your fault, Raphael!”

“Mine? I don’t even eat normal food,” Raphael shrugged aloofly. He was no doubt enjoying how annoyed his friend was. “Besides, Eva’s here. They’ll eat, and we can all leave.”

“Good riddance!” Ragnor said as he tossed his frying pan and spatula into the sink. He turned towards Hodge and Eva, looking them over carefully before he spoke, “Can’t say it’s a pleasure, but anything to thwart the Clave is always a pleasure.”

“We all second that!” Jace said with a wave of his fork. Isabelle gave a cheer of acknowledgement and Alec feigned annoyance but in fact, secretly agreed with his siblings. 

Hodge wanted to thank the warlock for helping his children and risking his life to house a fugitive. However, if he was anything like Raphael—which seemed to be the case—he would despise unnecessary words. So Hodge took a seat next to Eva at the table and began eating crispy waffles and bacon and scrambled eggs and buttered toast.

“Oh, Ragnor,” Eva called out. Ragnor looked up from where he leaned against the counter with Raphael. They each had a mug in their hands, but while Ragnor’s had steaming coffee, Raphael’s had fresh lamb’s blood. “Could you do me a favor?”

“It’ll cost you double.”

“Put it on Rapha’s tab.”

Ragnor raised his eyebrows in mild amusement. “What do you want? Choose wisely.” 

“A mug of Earl Grey tea with a splash of milk and two sugars.”

When the mug appeared on the table after a snap of Ragnor’s fingers, Eva pushed it towards Hodge. He nearly melted in appreciation when Eva grinned, “I know you’re dying for some tea, Hodge.”


	30. How I Met Your Mother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reference was too good to pass up on

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“But they’re three-hundred—”

“I don’t buy cheap things.”

Hodge wasn’t sure if he should be grateful or utterly horrified. They’d arrived in New York City at around midnight due to the six hour time difference. Ragnor was kind enough to open the Portal near the Dumort where Tessa and Catarina were waiting on the other side. The warlocks greeted Hodge kindly, telling him they held no ill-will towards him. Hodge was relieved everyone was so understanding, despite the fact he was a fugitive of the Law.

“Thank you.” Hodge knew it was a wasted effort to thank the vampire, but he felt the need to. Raphael’s reply was a mere shrug. When the sun was rising over Manhattan, Eva and the others returned to the Institute, leaving Hodge with Raphael in the Dumort. The clan leader gave him the suite down the hall from his own and then told him they’d be going to an optometrist at noon. 

Hodge never thought he’d turn to mundane medicine, but he supposed it was just one more thing the Clave lied about. It wasn’t backwards at all: the doctor had him look through a contraption of sorts that switched between various lenses until he could see the letters on the board clearly. Hodge apparently had something mundanes called myopia with a bit of astigmatism in his right eye. The Silent Brothers have a similar method: they have hundreds of circular glass cuts they place in front of your eyes until you see clearly and then they create eyeglasses for you. Hodge never knew his terrible eyesight had a name.

“I can show you New York,” Raphael said as he tossed his enchanted umbrella into the backseat of the Audi. Hodge was surprised to see how different he looked wearing a graphic t-shirt, jeans, sneakers, a Mets cap, and aviator sunglasses. He looked like a regular boy of sixteen. What he was supposed to be. “Eva told me you’ve never actually seen the city—”

“I won’t subject you to that,” Hodge laughed softly, giddy at being able to see clearly after so long. The city towered over his head, the colors vibrant, people’s faces clear and distinguishable. “You’re doing more than enough by letting me stay in the Dumort and spending an absurd amount of money on a single pair of glasses.”

Raphael shrugged as he started the car. “I owe you.”

“Me?” Hodge frowned quizzically before understanding what he meant. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“I don’t think you understand what you did, Starkweather,” Raphael said. He didn’t take his eyes off the road as he steered the car through the city streets. “Or what it means to Eva.”

“I lied, I schemed, and I did things I’ll regret for the rest of my life.”

“You don’t regret anything.” Raphael spared him a quick glance behind his sunglasses. “If you had to do it all again for her and for your wife, you would.”

Hodge sighed sharply, begrudgingly accepting Raphael’s sound logic. He was completely correct and Hodge suddenly remembered this boy was much, much older than him. And much wiser.

They were in the underground parking lot under the Dumort when Raphael said, “I’ve killed innocent people too, you know.”

Hodge stopped walking abruptly as if an invisible wall blocked his way and drew the breath out of him. Raphael simply stood there, his boyish face contrasting the depth of his eyes. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and said, “When I was fifteen and stupid, my friends and I thought we could challenge a vampire clan and make it out alive. I was Turned, but I didn’t have anyone to guide me so I drained my friends of blood and killed them.”

It amazed him how Raphael could speak of it without flinching. Perhaps after so many years, it gets easier to say. “I was aware of what I was doing, but I couldn’t stop and by the time I could it was too late. I know it’s not the same—I was in a frenzy, and you had the ability to walk away. But when you really look at it, neither of us had another choice.”

“Did you tell Eva?”

“She knows everything there is to know about me. I’ve been very transparent, as should you.”

Hodge sighed shakily, his mind flashing with memories he tries to forget—both good and bad memories that bring him an equal amount of grief to relive. Raphael turned around to pull the door of the stairwell open. 

“Don’t be afraid to tell her the truth,” Raphael said. “I was afraid, and it was all for nothing.”

* * *

It was early in the evening when Eva arrived at the Dumort. Hodge was in Raphael’s office trying to avoid the decanter of whiskey on an old-fashioned tea trolley. Hodge was a nervous drinker, and just thinking about having to tell Eva a story he’s never heard himself say out loud was urging him to feel the burn of alcohol in his throat. 

“I’m glad to see you’re both alive!” Eva joked. Her hair was a mess of lovely curls, accentuating her soft features and bright golden eyes. She wore a cream knitted sweater with ripped jeans and suede block-heeled boots. He could see the hilt of a dagger poking out of her right ankle while her left stored her stele. The hoops she wore were her trusty chakrams—Hodge always felt a surge of pride to see her with them. 

Eva pointed at Hodge’s face. “Nice glasses, Hodge.”

“They cost me a pretty penny,” Raphael said from his desk. He’d been doing paperwork, but Hodge didn’t dare ask what it was. Only the Angel knows what vampires do that requires paperwork. Blood bank donations, surely. “If they arrest him again, make sure to take them back so I can return them and get a refund.”

_ He’s warmed up to you _ , Eva touched Hodge’s mind suddenly. When he gave her an incredulous look, she laughed. “Don’t look so terrified!”

Hodge followed Eva out of the old hotel and onto the darkening streets of New York. Now with clear vision, Hodge could take in the details of his surroundings, the sparkling lights of the city, the lettering on the signs of every street corner. The enormous buildings of Manhattan towered over his head, nearly as tall as the glass towers of Alicante. Cars and taxis zoomed past him on the streets and people bumped into him as they rushed on the sidewalks. Eva took him down to the subway and they took a train downtown. Hodge was impressed by how efficient mundanes were.

They bought some food at a cafe near Central Park and sat on the terrace to eat. Eva started by telling him every Shadowhunter was being summoned to Alicante for a meeting to discuss Valentine and what to do about him. 

“They decided to call the meeting after the battle on the East River,” Eva smirked deviously. “And they also mentioned a prisoner they were interrogating in regards to Valentine’s whereabouts has suddenly gone missing; they’re saying Valentine snuck into the city himself and broke him out.”

“Interrogation? They didn’t even give me a trial by the Sword; I was left down there to rot,” Hodge let out a sardonic laugh. “Hopefully Valentine doesn’t hear about it—he might approach the Clave and deny it altogether.”

“It’s scary to think how much the Clave lies to us,” Eva sighed softly, pushing around the salad she ordered. “Was it always like that?”

“There are some things you have to keep secret for the sake of everyone’s sanity, but the Clave has become quite corrupt since Valentine’s return. They’re scared and rightfully so.”

“They don’t know where to turn or who to listen to,” Eva nodded slowly.

Eva then went on to mention Clary Fairchild was approached by a woman named Madeleine Bellefleur who claimed Jocelyn had confided in her when she went into hiding. Madeleine said none other than Ragnor Fell could bring Jocelyn out of her induced coma. 

“I have to tell Rapha to call Ragnor, but I think he’s exhausted all his favors for the next century,” Eva laughed. “Clary wants to come with us to Alicante, so we’ll just walk to Ragnor’s house together and he’ll be forced to see us.”

“He definitely won’t be happy about that,” Hodge joked.

Silence loomed over them. There was a massive elephant in the room and Hodge knew she was letting him bring it up. It was a delicate subject for him, and he appreciated her tactfulness. Hodge took one large gulp of sweetened tea before setting it down on its saucer.

“I don’t know where to begin,” he admitted with a nervous chuckle.

“Start with the happy things,” Eva rested her chin on her hands, leaning in to listen intently. “Tell me about my mom, how you two met, how you started dating, your first kiss, your wedding, what she liked to eat and do and what kind of music she listened to. Would she have liked Izzy? And Rapha? And Jace and Alec?”

Hodge let out a laugh. “I like to say she’d be very proud of you if she were here now. She wanted nothing more than the best for you.”

“Even if...” Eva blinked quickly, no doubt batting away the tears welling up in them. “Even if she was forced to have me?”

“There was an alternative plan we discussed about going into hiding and raising you in the mundane world like Jocelyn did with Clary,” he said. “We thought about moving to the English countryside where Marigold dreamed of living, or perhaps back to her hometown in New Orleans or Canada or South America...” he trailed off. “But you have the blood of Heaven in you, much more so than us Nephilim. You belong in the Shadow World, and the Angels could probably come down to claim you at any moment if they wished—we know nothing of them or what they’re capable of doing. And if we ran away, Valentine would hunt us down and kill us without mercy, and we couldn’t let him have you. You’re  _ our _ daughter.”

The finality of his tone made Eva’s lips waver. Her hand shot up to her cheek to catch the stray tear before it stained her face. Her voice was steady as she spoke, “You don’t deserve what you’ve been through, Hodge. You’re a hero.”

“Some heroes are never written about in history books,” he said. “They only exist to the people they helped, and I’m fine with that.”

Eva smiled softly, twiddling her fingers together on the tabletop. Hodge returned the smile. “Now, I suppose I can begin with how I met your mother...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	31. The Last Piece of the Puzzle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What really happened in the fire

I wouldn’t have gone to the Academy if I hadn’t begged my parents. They were old and tired and I came to them as a surprise—my mother never thought she’d ever get pregnant but she did. They left me to my own devices often, and I’d spend most of my time reading and studying the plants and herbs in the forests near the Starkweather manor in the countryside. It wasn’t really a manor, mind you. It was called that out of sympathy, but it was nothing compared to the great manors of the Fairchilds and the Lightwoods and the Penhallows. The Starkweathers were once a great Shadowhunter family and we ran the York Institute in England, but by my time, we were nothing. We had a modest fortune and that small townhouse in Alicante, but no more and no less. I never knew any different, and never thought I was missing out on anything.

When I was old enough, I begged my parents to let me attend the Shadowhunter Academy. They didn’t want to let me go, saying it wasn’t necessary, but I insisted. I later realized why they didn’t want me to go. I wasn’t the prototype for a Shadowhunter warrior. I was skinny and weak and cowardly; I couldn’t fight as well as the others. It took me twice as long to learn how to hit the target with a throwing knife and even longer to get a blow in with a seraph blade. I was surprisingly adept at using chakrams and I stuck with them for the rest of my life—they were the only weapons I felt comfortable with. 

I was a scholar, not a fighter. I couldn’t beat anyone in a sparring match, but I always received perfect marks on written exams. I wasn’t as brave as the others to enter a demon nest without flinching, but I was never scared of getting picked on during lectures to answer the most obscure history question our professors could think of. But because I wasn’t what a normal Shadowhunter was supposed to be, I was shunned. I was picked on and scorned and beat up because they knew I wouldn’t fight back—and they were right. 

A year into the Academy, my parents died. My mother died first, and then my father died two months later. They died of old age—not a lot of Shadowhunters can claim that. But I was all alone now, still doing dreadful in sparring matches and agility and high jumps. I barely read any books like I used to anymore and while I still got decent grades on my exams, I wasn’t enthusiastic anymore. I even thought about becoming a Silent Brother; I didn’t have anyone that cared for me, and I didn’t have any close friends.

And then came Valentine. That’s his MO—his modus operandi—he comes to you at your most vulnerable time because that’s when you’re more likely to fall for his charms and his facade. And I did. He made me feel included and wanted, that my opinions mattered. I got better at fighting under his wing; he was a good teacher. Then came Lucian Greymark, Jocelyn Fairchild, Robert Lightwood, Maryse Trueblood, and Michael Wayland. We created what was the Circle, and I wrote the loyalty oath. But you know that already.

Around this time was when I met Marigold. She was a mundane with the Sight found by the New Orleans conclave after she told them a warlock was practicing necromancy in the French Quarter. We were never in any lectures together because trueborn Shadowhunters attend different classes than those studying to Ascend, but we used the same facilities. I met her in the library while she argued with the librarian, asking her why they didn’t have the works of Tolkien when they were all about magic. She started the conversation with me. 

_“Can you believe this? Everyone knows Tolkien!”_

And I was very honest. _“I don’t know who Tolkien is.”_

_“At least lie and say you do!”_

I could hear her talk all day. She went on and on about Middle Earth and hobbits and rings of power and the Angel knows what else, but she was so passionate about this author, about the world he created and the beauty of his prose and how Merry was her favorite and how the elves were nothing like the fey she learned about in her classes. That’s why I introduced you to the books; I knew you would love them as much as Marigold did.

Stephen Herondale was the newest member of the Circle and he knew all about mundane culture and had many contacts in London since his family ran the Institute there. I asked him if he could get me the Tolkien books and without even asking what I wanted them for, that kid had all of them for me in a few days—from the _Silmarillion_ all the way to the _Hobbit_. Stephen was such a nice young man.

I gave the books to Marigold and she was over the moon. I realized then and there that I needed to find excuses to be around her; I was drawn to her energy. It was hard to ignore her when she walked by. She was beautiful and cheerful and so kind to everyone she met, but no one ever suspected Marigold was such a shameless tease. She’d poke fun of you, but it never annoyed you. She did it so flawlessly and so genuine, you’d be laughing at your own expense by the end of it.

We’d meet in the library often and we’d talk about both Nephilim and mundane history, about all the books she loved, about all the books I loved. We traded books often and then we’d go on and on about them. I told her I had a forest behind my house in the countryside that I fashioned into a plant nursery. She’d asked if I could show it to her one day and I agreed. I later found out she wanted to get me alone—I think she realized I was in love with her before I even realized it myself.

No, I won’t go into detail about how our date went! But I will say that I proposed to her a bit after that and she accepted. I gave her the Starkweather ring to wear and I think the Academy blew up with gossip after that. Marigold was so pretty, and I was...well...the poor, weakling Hodge Starkweather. No one really understood how that happened, but Marigold and I didn’t care. We were in love, and we were just waiting to graduate and for her Ascension, and we could finally be together.

I was present at her Ascension ceremony and she rose as Marigold Brandybuck. I’m sure you know that name—she took it from the Tolkien books. One of the hobbits, I believe. I was shocked she got away with it, but she seemed amused that she did.

_“What? It’s their fault they don’t know anything about mundane culture. Besides, I’m going to be Marigold Starkweather soon.”_

It flattered me she was proud to be my wife, because I surely didn’t deserve her. She was so perfect, and I could barely swing a seraph blade and defend myself properly from demons. But she reminded me she loved me, and I always made sure to tell her too. 

We married a few weeks after Valentine and Jocelyn. I don’t remember much about the reception after the ceremony—I got terribly drunk and woke up the next afternoon with a splitting headache and horrible nausea. Marigold found the entire ordeal very amusing. I loved her so much—even at my worst, she always found some redeeming quality in me.

After we returned from our honeymoon in Vienna, Valentine began to encourage Marigold to join the Circle. I’d tell her she should join, so she could be with me and what I was part of. She always kindly refused, telling me she didn’t mind I went off to Circle meetings and did things without her. Valentine insisted I have her join because he said he wanted the most important person in my life to be part of the most important moment in the history of Nephilim. He had such a manipulative way of saying things—I always fell for it and I’m disgusted with myself. Marigold kept refusing kindly, and it was only later I found out that Marigold had a bad feeling about Valentine. He was my friend, so she never said a thing for my sake, but she felt there was something more to him, something sinister and wicked.

Then I noticed a sudden change in Marigold. She refused to eat and barely slept at night. She wouldn’t let me near her, or touch her, or even kiss her. It hurt me to see her like that; she was pushing me away and I didn’t know why. I was worried for her; she wasn’t smiling anymore, or teasing me, or using the hair products I made for her, or reading, or decorating the house with flowers from the garden. She wouldn’t go out, she’d refuse to see anyone, and we were arguing for any little thing. I was heartbroken by her sudden change—she wasn’t the woman I loved and I knew something was wrong. 

I went against her wishes and summoned one of the Silent Brothers and he told us she was pregnant. I was thrilled to hear the news—I was going to be a father! But Marigold didn’t look excited at all. In fact, she got worse. She spiralled into a pit I couldn’t get her out of. Her depression was driving me insane; I didn’t know what to do. I’d tell her she’d hurt the baby, that she needed to tell me why she was feeling this way, that I could help her, but she would refuse and send me away. I stupidly went to Valentine and told him what was happening. You know what he told me?

_“Don’t worry, Starkweather. She wouldn’t dare do anything to risk the life of your unborn child.”_

Then one day I came home after a Circle meeting and Tessa Gray was in my sitting room with Marigold. They told me everything. What Valentine did, how he lured my wife into the Fairchild manor and had her drink some demonic potion and had her and Ithuriel—I don’t even know what to call it. A child born of rape...but on a technicality, it wasn’t, and that’s what Valentine no doubt used to justify his sick actions.

The guilt that ate away at Marigold was drowning her. Seeing me so ecstatic, telling everyone I was going to be a father, having Valentine of all people approach her and congratulate her and I didn’t notice her discomfort. I felt sick to my stomach when I was told what truly happened, and I didn’t go kill Valentine because I knew I couldn’t. He was a much better fighter than I was.

But I was a much better liar. I learned from the best after all.

Tessa brought in Catarina Loss, Brother Enoch, and Brother Zachariah. Together, we came up with our plan to hide you and protect you from Valentine. It was foolproof, or so we thought, and we were hopeful it would strike enough fear into Valentine that he’d never attempt to do something like this ever again. We found out we were having a girl around this time; Brother Zachariah told us. Of course, we would tell everyone it was a boy, but we knew we were having a beautiful baby girl.

Marigold became much livelier after that. The huge weight was lifted from her shoulders and she began to glow. Her pregnancy made her unnervingly beautiful; sometimes I felt like she’d grow wings and become an angel herself. Anything she touched would spring back up to life; dead flowers, rotting fruit, dried branches and leaves, or the dried herbs I had set aside for cooking. She had to be careful. I called her Queen Midas to tease her. 

When the time came, Catarina arrived and performed a C-section. I assisted her with it and I’m glad I did because...I’ll get to that later. But you were born; beautiful and wailing and with a head full of curly black hair. Marigold named you. 

_“Evangeline. It’s the perfect name for her.”_

Of course, you were James Johann in the official Nephilim archives. The Silent Brothers gave us their names before they joined the Brotherhood—I believe Zachariah was James, and Enoch was Johann. 

Valentine looked revoltingly pleased his plan produced a son. He carried you when the Circle came to see you. I’m sorry for that; we didn’t want to let him anywhere near you but we had no choice. 

We raised you for as long as we could. You were such a cheerful baby. I loved it when you smiled at me and you rarely cried unless you were hungry. You were even starting to flip over on your own and had already discovered your toes. Unfortunately, the longer we had you, the more dangerous it became. You were starting to look more like your mother, more like a baby girl, so we knew it was time for the second phase of the plan. The hardest part.

Brother Zachariah agreed to take you away and place you in an Institute somewhere in the world as an orphaned Nephilim. For everyone else’s sake, he would be the only one to know where he’d placed you. For an added layer of protection, Tessa placed an oath of silence on all of us so if Valentine ever figured it out, he’d be unable to extract the truth from us.

The third and final phase of the plan was to set fire to the Starkweather manor using the vase infused with heavenly fire Tessa and Catarina received from the Archangel Gabriel. Marigold and I were going to barely make it out of the fire, act like we did everything we could to go back in there for you but the flames were too powerful. We were going to tell Valentine that a spontaneous fire began, probably a kettle was left on or the fireplace spit out embers that spread too quickly.

But Marigold was starting to suspect our plan wouldn’t work.

_“Valentine is too smart; he knows when you’re faking. You have to feel real grief for him to believe you’ve truly lost someone you love.”_

I didn’t know what she meant when she said that; I told her it would be fine. Valentine would be too shocked by the heavenly fire. I was too stupid to realize Marigold was completely right about Valentine’s talent for detecting emotional deciet, and I was too stupid to realize the undertones in what Marigold said.

That morning I left for Alicante to shop at the local farmer’s market for some fresh fruits. Then I saw the fire; it was enormous. You could see it from the city. It shot up into the sky as if it was trying to return to Heaven, like a waterspout of flames. It happened so suddenly, the demon towers began glowing in red. Everyone thought we were under attack. I don’t remember running out of the city and up to the manor, but when I got there, the residents from the neighboring manors were present: Valentine and a pregnant Jocelyn, Robert and Maryse with little Alec, the Herondales, the Waylands. The entire countryside was there.

I tried to go inside. I didn’t care about that fire. I had to get Marigold out. I knew right then and there what she’d meant the night before about grief. We couldn’t play the part of grieving parents; we knew our child was alive somewhere. Valentine would see through it. 

She sacrificed herself. She would die in that fire with our child, and leave me behind to grieve. A grief that Valentine would see as true, only he’d never be able to tell that the grief I felt was only for my wife, not for my child.

I was angry at Marigold for doing what she did for a time. I wanted to bring her back from the dead and kill her for what she did. For leaving me, for letting her guilt get to her as it did, for throwing me into a never-ending cycle of grief and rage. Even though she slowly recovered, I knew she hadn’t forgiven herself for falling for Valentine’s trickery, for cheating on me, for laying with an angel—a no doubt blasphemous thing to do in her mind even though we knew about the true origins of Jesus. It wasn’t her fault. None of it was. It was mine. I brought Valentine into our lives and kept him there. I was too much of a coward to renounce my friendship with him, if one could call it that. I was the one that didn’t notice she couldn’t stand to be near him and I didn’t find it strange she kept refusing to join the Circle. I was the stupid one.

Valentine came to my house in the city, under the guise of checking up on me because everyone was so worried. I was the one who told him the fire probably started in the nursery, that there had been spontaneous fires and I had assumed it was the fire grate. I told him I’d changed it, and that I didn’t know why the fire started. I even cried at his feet. Those were real tears, but they were for Marigold. The image of her shattering the vase and bursting into flames haunted me at night. I woke up screaming from my nightmares. I still do.

He believed me. I lied to his face and he believed me. Marigold was right: genuine grief would fool him. He told everyone the fire was a conspiracy by the Clave, that they started the fire in the nursery to start killing off the second generation of the Circle and that they’d come for his unborn son and for Maryse and Robert’s son too. 

I acted like Valentine’s blind follower after that. I needed to stay in his good graces. I did unspeakable things, things that disgust me to say but I had to do them. Valentine killed Stephen Herondale because he was losing faith in him, and then he recruited me to get rid of his wife Celine. We killed her and made it look like a suicide. I cut her son out of her womb as Valentine watched—he insisted the child needed to be saved because he was not responsible for his father’s betrayal. I knew he was lying, of course, and I knew he was only saving Stephen’s son because he wanted something from the boy. Only the Angel knows what. 

I was terrified of telling you about this. I’ve killed innocents to prove my loyalty to Valentine: I was never brought along to raids because I was a dreadful fighter, but I’d find out where the vampire and werewolf hideouts were for them—I’d lead the Circle to them to slaughter. I killed a pregnant woman and cut her child out of her. I don’t expect you to ever forgive me, and I don’t expect to be forgiven by Stephen and Celine’s son, wherever he may be if he’s still alive. I deserve to be punished for everything I’ve done—the Clave was correct to curse me and banish me from Idris. I deserve much worse than that.

But I had to show Valentine I was loyal. That I truly believed him when he said the Clave was responsible for the death of Marigold and my son because that’s what he would’ve expected from me. I had to keep you safe and if destroying my life and reputation was what had to be done, then so be it. I was more than willing to stain my hands with blood to keep his hands off you. 

Then the Uprising occurred and I was among the few that surrendered willingly. Inquisitor Herondale was especially disgusted with us since she lost her son to Valentine. She chose our sentence.

When we arrived in New York, some conclave members were there expecting us. They told us that an orphan lived in the Institute after the Silent Brothers claimed they found her as an infant at the Silent City’s entrance in the New York City Marble Cemetery. She was now about three years old, about Alec’s age. I didn’t think anything of it until I saw you playing with a doll in the library.

It was you! By the grace of the Angel, I was sentenced to live out my exile in the very Institute Brother Zachariah had chosen to place you in. He could’ve placed you in Los Angeles, in Paris, in Miami, or even London like your mother might’ve wanted, but he placed you in New York. I remember Maryse and Robert looked extremely worried and they approached me about your eerie likeness to Marigold. They even offered to convince the Inquisitor to transfer me to another Institute—the nicest thing they’ve ever told me, mind you. I kindly refused, telling them it wasn’t worth mentioning and that I’d moved on. All lies of course. My incredible ability to lie horrified me. 

I sent a message to the Silent Brothers shortly after, and they told Tessa and Catarina. I recall Catarina moved to the city to be close to you, and Enoch and Zachariah gave me specific instructions to summon them when you needed anything—we had no idea how your angel blood would react to runes or if you would show powers like Marigold did when she was pregnant with you. Thankfully, you didn’t show anything too obvious; you bore Marks normally and had a _parabatai_ with no issues. 

When you were all hunting the Mortal Cup, I saw an opportunity to bargain with Valentine. I knew he could remove my curse and when he did, I could go into hiding with you until everything blew over. It was a stupid plan, one that I didn’t think completely through and did on the spur of the moment. I was terrified of Valentine finding out about you and knowing he was in New York, where you could bump into him...I couldn’t take the chance. I panicked.

He removed my curse like he promised and I tried to take you away. I didn’t even know where I was going—I hadn’t stepped outside for almost twenty years! I knew the streets from maps I’d looked through, but my mind was utterly blank with fear. I needed to get you far away, find Tessa, and then explain everything to you properly when she lifted the oath. But I didn’t get the chance and you looked at me with such hatred that day in the alley, it haunted me every single time I managed to get some sleep. Lucian was kind enough not to dig his fangs too deep into me when we fought; out of all the Circle members, I got along with him the most. When you all left me there, I drew an _iratze_ on myself and went to the nearest entrance into the Council Hall. I told the Consul and the Inquisitor that Valentine planned to attack the city, but they didn’t believe me. They arrested me, smashed my glasses, and forgot about me in the cells of the Gard. 

You have every right to cast me away and never see me again. I wouldn’t blame you. Even after all these years, I still find it difficult to forgive myself. Raphael told me I shouldn’t be afraid to tell you everything and I’ve told you everything. But whatever you decide to do, know that I will do whatever I can to help you fight against Valentine. Trust my hate for him, and trust my love for you and Marigold. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	32. The Height of Heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valentine will soon answer to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the very long wait! I haven't forgotten about this story and I do plan on finishing it. Thank you to everyone that has left kind reviews and kudos!

“ _ Que te pasa? _ ” Raphael asked. The credits of his telenovela were rolling over the screen; Eva hadn’t even realized it was over. They were in an empty suite in the Four Seasons Hotel, but Hodge believed they were on a date in the city. Raphael reveled in having tricked him while Eva could only laugh at how childish he was being.

“What? Did my pulse spike?”

“No, it slowed down, actually.” Raphael ran his knuckles over her cheekbone. “What are you thinking about?”

“About going to Alicante tomorrow,” Eva sighed heavily. “Hodge says this will probably lead to a war.”

Raphael brooded silently before he replied, “I’m starting to think so too.”

“I don’t want people to die, Rapha.”

“Nothing is certain,  _ mi angelito _ .”

Eva cringed at the nickname she loved to hear from him. He noticed her sudden distaste and silently begged her with his eyes to speak her mind. “If the angels are so all-powerful, why don’t they come here and end this? Valentine literally wants to destroy the Nephilim!”

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Raphael gave her a crooked smile. “I grew up thinking Jesus was the son of God and it was all a lie.”

Eva frowned in thought. In an attempt to distract her, Raphael pulled her into a deep kiss. Eva rolled over to pull him on top of her, humming into his mouth and playing with his hair between her fingers. He parted from her with a light chuckle, “Do you think I’m going to Hell for this?”

“For what? Kissing an angel?”

“Among other, unspeakable things,” he said with a shrug. It made her laugh. “What do you think happened to Mary of Nazareth?”

“I don’t know.” Eva sighed when Raphael kissed her neck, taking in her scent. “She was mortal, so she probably died a mortal death and that was that.”

“The angels are merciless,” he mumbled against her skin. “I hope you won’t forget about me when you Ascend and become one of them.”

“You’re a bit unforgettable, Rapha.”

“Just a bit?” he scoffed. “How rude. You’ll pay for that.”

* * *

The following morning, everyone gathered outside the Institute with Magnus, who was hired to open a temporary Portal into Alicante. Simon arrived and, oddly enough, he wasn't with Clary. They’d agreed to go to the capital together so she could ask Ragnor for the spell to wake Jocelyn. Raphael had texted Eva to tell her Ragnor was already expecting their very unwelcome company. He may or may not be out when you arrive, he warned playfully. 

However, the moment Jace dragged Simon away to speak with him in private, Eva was immediately suspicious.

“Jace is planning something,” Eva told Izzy, who was looking over her manicure. 

“Isn’t he always?” Izzy replied. “You think he lied to Clary? She’s not here.”

“Probably—”

A white mist suddenly engulfed the garden and Forsaken emerged from within. Everyone drew their weapons, Eva and Izzy fighting back to back as the scarred and inhuman Forsaken warriors lunged for them. The mist was thick and smelled unpleasantly sweet. Through it, Eva could see the bright blue sparks of Magnus’ magic and the warping outline of the open Portal.

“The Portal!” Magnus called out. “Go through the Portal!”

Eva was drawing back her chakram from the chest of a Forsaken when she saw Maryse run through the Portal carrying Max. Alec grabbed Izzy’s arm and ran right after them. Izzy’s head was turned toward Eva, calling out her name frantically at the thought of being separated from her. As Eva sliced her way through another Forsaken that got in her way, she heard Jace’s gruff voice and when she looked up, saw him dragging a wounded Simon through the Portal.

The moment they disappeared, the mist began to lift and the Forsaken dispersed like cowardly soldiers retreating from battle. Eva’s head whipped around towards the Portal only to see it shrinking and shrinking until it swallowed itself and vanished. Her chakrams slid out of her hands, clanking against the stone floor of the courtyard. She was already starting to feel the tug in the middle of her chest common in  _ parabatai _ that had countries and oceans between them.

“Are you alright?” Magnus approached her, taking her shoulder in his hand to check her for injuries. The blood on her gear was not her own and he seemed to notice that. “Valentine probably sent those Forsaken to attack the Lightwoods. How he knows when things happen is beyond me.”

Magnus let out a sharp breath, looking across the courtyard at the body of Madeleine sprawled out like a ragdoll with her throat cut open. “Madeleine’s dead.”

“Clary’s going to be devastated.” Eva bent down to the woman’s bloodied corpse on the courtyard, bowing her head in silent respect. “ _ Ave Atque Vale, _ Madeleine Bellefleur.”

“Speaking of the red-haired devil,” Magnus nodded in the direction of the Institute’s entrance. It was hard to miss Clary despite her short stature and when Eva called out to her, the girl jogged over. She went deathly pale at the sight of Eva’s bloodied gear, the blood splattered all over the courtyard, and the lifeless corpse of Madeleine Bellefleur.

Needless to say, Clary was not pleased by this turn of events. Eva wasn’t particularly pleased either and she could feel Izzy’s distress through their bond. The only thing keeping Izzy sane, it seemed, was the fact that she knew Eva was alive through said bond. 

To their shock, Clary drew her stele and began carving a rune on the wall. Eva watched each line traced in slow motion, the rune flashing behind her eyes even before Clary completed it. When she finally finished it and the Portal yawned open, Eva's ears filled with the sound of a distant heavenly voice, singing a hymn of sorts. 

Even after both Clary and Luke stepped through the Portal, it took Magnus shaking her shoulder to snap out of it. She looked up at him in disbelief; she felt as if years had gone by. She looked back at the wall, still seeing the outline of the rune with each blink.

“What do we do?” Eva touched the wall, her fingers tingling. She felt closer than ever to the angels they called their patrons. The pure blood of the angels she carried within her. It was electrifying. “Is there any way to know where the Portal will spit them out?”

“We can only hope they made it out on the other side,” Magnus said. “Getting stuck in between is nasty business.”

“I guess getting me through is not an option either?” 

“Unless the Clave sends word and asks for you to be brought through, then no.”

“I saw Jace drag Simon through the Portal,” Eva said. “With the prisoner that escaped recently and now a Downworlder entering without a permit, I doubt the Clave would want anyone coming in until they say so.”

“Right, the prisoner,” Magnus said with a devious smirk. “Don’t think I didn’t hear about your jailbreak—Ragnor called me just to complain.”

As Magnus summoned the Silent Brothers for her, Eva sent a hasty fire message to Izzy:

_ I’m fine but Madeleine didn’t make it. Keep an eye out for Clary and Luke. Don’t tell Jace. _

When the Brothers Enoch and Zachariah arrived in their ominous carriage, Magnus took his leave and Portaled away to Idris. Enoch carried Madeleine’s limp body away while Zachariah listened to Eva’s retelling of events.

_ I will send an official letter to the Clave with your testimony _ , Zachariah said.  _ With the growing security issues in Alicante, it will most likely take some time to approve your entry into the city. I will contact you if I receive any messages from the Consul. _

* * *

Eva was inside the Institute library kindling the fire when Hodge and Raphael entered the room. She’d called them earlier and after she told them what happened, they decided to come over and keep her company in the empty Institute. Raphael was carrying a bag of what Eva recognized as takeout from Taki’s. Hodge raced across the library, checking her for injuries.

“You’re not hurt, are you?”

“Just a few scratches I healed up with an  _ iratze _ ,” she laughed. “Are you okay being in the Institute?”

Hodge let out a sigh. “It’s a different feeling knowing I can walk out whenever I please. Besides, the library was always my comfort zone.”

“How incredibly boring.” Raphael decided to chime in aloofly, setting the takeout bag on the large table in the room. “Do you want to stay here or head back to the Dumort with us?”

“I need to guard the Institute,” Eva said. “I’ll stay here and send out a distress signal if Valentine is stupid enough to come here again.”

“I doubt he will,” Hodge said thoughtfully. “He’s in the final phase of his plan. He’s most likely somewhere near Alicante getting ready to threaten the Clave.”

“Do you think he’ll summon Raziel first? Use him against them?”

“Using the Mortal Instruments grants you a wish, not servitude,” Hodge scoffed. “I’d like to see Valentine try to make an archangel serve him.”

“He captured my father-in-law,” Raphael joked dryly, taking a quick sip from his silver-plated flask. “I think he’s more than capable of cornering an archangel—nothing would surprise me.”

“Ithuriel never budged,” Hodge said. “He never revealed any of the information Valentine wanted.”

“Where do you think he is?” Eva asked. 

“I can’t even begin to fathom where Valentine is keeping Ithuriel,” Hodge said. “In some pit somewhere, surely. Angels can’t die, after all.”

“Isn’t there a way I can talk to them?” Eva asked, pointing at all the books in the library. “There has to be some way.”

“Every account I’ve read ends with the summoner engulfed in heavenly fire.” Hodge widened his eyes and pointed a finger scoldingly, like a parent would. “And you are _ not  _ going to attempt summoning an angel. I forbid it.”

Eva took a seat at the table, digging her hand into the takeout bag for a mouthful of french fries. Chewing thoughtfully, she no doubt looked like a pouting child. Hodge sat down across from her while Raphael took a seat at her side. He placed a hand on her knee, silently comforting her as her mind went in all directions.

She doubted praying like Jonathan Shadowhunter would get her anywhere. Summoning was off the table, as per Hodge’s intense glare. They had no idea where Ithuriel might be, or if Valentine released him at some point. 

“What would happen if Valentine released Ithuriel?” Raphael asked. “You said angels grow weaker in our world—that’s part of the reason the angels wanted to create someone like Jesus.”

“Even in a weakened state, I doubt Valentine would be stupid enough to release Ithuriel and not expect retaliation,” Hodge said thoughtfully. “And if he did, he would probably do so a good distance away; otherwise that angel would bestow a wrath so great, Valentine would be answering to the height of Heaven itself.”

“The height of Heaven,” Eva muttered under her breath. Both Hodge and Raphael eyed her quizzically as her jaw slacked open. “I can summon Raziel.”

It took a brief second for utter terror to flash through Hodge’s eyes. Even Raphael looked mortified.

“You will not!” Hodge quickly stood from his chair, but Eva had already bolted to the door. She was down the hall leading to the weapons room when Raphael appeared before her, hands in his pockets casually. His vampire speed could still beat her ten times over.

“He told you not to say his name in vain,” Raphael reminded her firmly. “I interpret that as:  _ don’t bother me again, you little— _ ”

“This isn’t in vain!” Eva cried. “Valentine is planning on summoning Raziel; I’ll be warning him, so he’ll appreciate it.”

“What makes you think he doesn’t already know?” Hodge finally caught up to them. He was out of breath and clutching his injured shoulder. “Angels are all-powerful.”

Eva whimpered. “I have to try.”

There was a moment of silence between them as they contemplated the idea of naming a seraph blade after the Angel, the most taboo rule for the Nephilim. Eva knew Raphael was most likely remembering that day, when she almost bled out and died in his arms. Hodge was probably remembering it too, the day he thought he almost lost his daughter.

“I hate that it has to be you, Eva,” Hodge grunted in annoyance. He looked her straight in the eyes, holding her glance firmly as he nodded. “Do it.”

So there she was in the weapons room, plucking a seraph blade from the hooks on the wall. She could feel Hodge’s eyes burning into the back of her head, the uneasiness flooding from Raphael despite his aloof expression. She balanced the blade comfortably in her palm, twirling it habitually.

“I remember there was a bright light,” Raphael said. “I remember it burned me like the sun would’ve. Granted, I became a Daylighter after that, so it was the last time I ever felt that sort of blistering.”

“I think you both should step outside,” Eva said, twirling the blade again nervously. Her heart was beating rapidly against her chest. She knew her boyfriend was sensing it because his eyebrows furrowed. “Just in case.”

“Let’s hope the Angel doesn’t destroy the Institute,” Hodge joked dryly. 

Eva didn’t say a word as she watched them walk outside and close the doors behind them. She looked down at the seraph blade, studying each angelic rune carved into the adamas. It felt so familiar to hold it, to swing it around and to twirl it between her fingers like a mundane would twirl a pen when they’re bored. 

Taking a deep breath, she held out the blade before her. She saw the reflection of her golden eyes on the face of the blade. Eyes that were not her mother’s, she realized, but actually her father’s. The sacred name left her lips in a whisper.

“ _ Raziel _ .” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	33. Dangerous Circumstances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What makes people work together

She remembered the enormous hall, the towering marble pillars, the blazing torches. Torches, she realized now, were burning with heavenly fire. Shadows danced over the polished floors and walls, but no shapes were distinguishable. She was aware of the floor beneath her feet, but she felt as if she were floating. It was surreal to be present, but feel as if you are an apparition or a translucent ghost.

_You call upon me again._

That soothing voice she remembered so vividly in her mind. Deep like a cello.

Eva stood her ground, squaring her shoulders and bracing herself for a presence she began to feel all around her. It made her shiver and her skin pucker with gooseflesh. Her heart was pounding in her chest. She parted her lips, but no words left her. She couldn’t speak.

_Heaven has no use for the language of mankind._

Eva understood immediately. _I come with a message for you, Raziel._

From behind a towering pillar emerged the form of a man, ageless but indescribably beautiful. He wore light armor of gold, his arms bare and lined with silvery rivers of runes Eva couldn’t read or recognize. He was glowing with a steady halo that outlined every inch of him, from his full head of gold and silver locks to his featureless golden eyes. His glorious wings were tucked into his back, each feather adorned with an open eye that fluttered with each step he took. 

_You are bold to believe you can do the work of angels,_ he said. Eva couldn’t stop staring into his eyes: no whites and no pupils. Just pure golden light and energy and fire. 

_Valentine Morgenstern wants to summon you using the Mortal Instruments_ , Eva said. _He wants to wish for the destruction of Downworlders and to make Nephilim the superior race. That can’t be what you envisioned for the world when you created Shadowhunters._

Raziel was a head taller than her, but Eva was overwhelmed by his presence. She felt as if she was suffocating, despite realizing that she was not breathing. Whatever this place was—Heaven, perhaps, or some in-between dimension—did not require the language of mankind or oxygen. 

_Valentine Morgenstern is a hideous blot against the race of Nephilim. It is shameful to see that Jonathan Shadowhunter’s descendants have spiraled into humanity’s flaws of greed and pride._

_We’re human_ , Eva said. _I’m sure you and the angels have a difficult time understanding that._

_We do not understand many things that mankind deem necessary._

_That’s why Jesus was born—to bridge the gap between mankind and Heaven. To mediate between the worlds._

_And Jesus was executed._ He said this bitterly. _And He forbid any interaction between Heaven and mankind henceforth. Hope for compassion and redemption were lost the moment they turned against Him._

_And yet, you created the Nephilim afterwards so there must be some compassion left._

Raziel squared his shoulders at her challenge. Eva continued furiously, _You created us, and I’m here to tell you Valentine Morgenstern wants to destroy what you created._

 _I disobeyed Him to create the Nephilim. Had Jonathan Shadowhunter not been true of heart, I would be ruling Hell alongside Asmodeus and Sammael._ Raziel’s wings flared. _But He forgave my disobedience—the Nephilim would protect the world from demonic influence, but we were still not to intervene._

Eva’s stomach dropped at the information. The Nephilim were not made in God’s image, nor were they planned. They were created out of the disobedience of one archangel who risked his livelihood and status out of compassion for Jonathan Shadowhunter’s wish for humankind. Eva never would’ve guessed angels had a rebellious streak—they’re more human than they let on.

 _And then there’s me,_ she continued. _Gabriel carried the message of my existence here, didn’t he?_

_We have been watching, but we cannot intervene._

_Then there’s nothing you can do?_

Raziel closed his eyes thoughtfully. His magnificent wings rustled behind him as he pondered her question. She was astonished he was even giving it thought.

 _Your existence has been discussed at length, and He has not spoken against it,_ Raziel began. _You are not of Heaven, but you are not of Earth. Like the Children of Lilith, you walk a solitary path. You belong to neither world, but can reside in either._

The fey most likely inherited their riddles and half-truths from their angel brethren, Eva thought in amusement.

 _If you won’t help us, at least tell me what to do_ , Eva pleaded. _The Nephilim are my people, and they are your blood too. I don’t want to see them destroyed, and I don’t think it’s in Heaven’s interest to see Hell get the upper hand._

The ghost of a smirk paraded his lips. _Are you threatening an archangel of Heaven?_

_It seems to be the only way you understand my predicament._

_Your link to Heaven is through Ithuriel. You need to speak to him._

_Valentine still has him._

Raziel raised his arm towards her and spread out his fingers, urging her to take his hand. Like Michaelangelo’s _The Creation of Adam_ , their fingertips barely touched before a flash of images erupted behind Eva’s eyes. 

She recognized it as Idris with its sprawling green fields and cerulean blue skies. A countryside manor appeared in her vision, and then the entryway, and then the hallway, and then the dusty library, and then the cellar, and then…

 _The ancestral home of the Waylands,_ Raziel said, his arm now resting at his side. _That is where your father is._

 _Thank you, Raziel,_ Eva said, bowing her head in respect. _Hopefully we’ll see each other again._

Again, Raziel gave her a smirk. A gentler one; one of compassion, or perhaps acknowledgement. _We shall._

* * *

It was like waking up from a sudden sleep. Eva gasped for air, her lungs burning as if she’d been holding her breath underwater for too long. Had she really not been breathing?

She was in the weapons room. Her seraph blade was in her hand, dull and unlit with the Angel’s power. The sun beaming through the high windows hadn’t changed much, telling her the conversation with Raziel didn’t take too long. 

Sliding the blade into her belt, she rushed for the doors and pushed them open. Raphael and Hodge were standing in the hallway, their eyes wide in astonishment.

“How long was I in there?” Eva asked.

“A few minutes,” Hodge said. “Did you speak to the Angel?”

Eva nodded. “The Angels are forbidden to intervene in our affairs because of God’s mandate after Jesus was killed, but I’m not of Heaven and I’m not of Earth—”

“So you can do as you like,” Raphael finished for her, smirking at the thought. “So what’s the plan?”

“You seem uncharacteristically eager,” Hodge pointed out.

“Valentine wants to destroy Downworlders. He earned his place on my list of undesirables.”

“First we need to gather the vampires, the werewolves, and any warlocks available and get them to Idris,” Eva said. Raphael’s face immediately contorted to one of disgust while Hodge raised his eyebrows quizzically at the thought of vampires and werewolves working together. “Valentine wants to raise the Angel and destroy everyone that turns against him, so we need to unite.”

Raphael scoffed. “Easier said than done.”

“I can’t believe I agree with Raphael,” Hodge said. “For one, the Clave will never agree to that.”

“That’s where I come in,” Eva jabbed her thumb into her chest. “Ithuriel is in the Wayland Manor in Idris. If I can release him, he can help me convince the Clave and the Downworlders to work together against Valentine.”

“An angel with a vengeance,” Raphael shrugged. “It could work.”

“It’s our only chance.” Eva turned to Hodge. “Do you know where the Wayland Manor is?”

“They were my neighbors,” Hodge nodded. “Their house wasn’t too far from where mine used to be.”

Eva turned to Raphael. “Can you gather your vampires?”

“I can’t guarantee you that,” he shook his head. “The politics of the Night Children is complicated, Eva. I’ve kept you out of it, but I can’t just order them all to Idris to fight in a war that doesn’t concern us—at least not entirely. I need to hold a vote, and hear what they want in exchange.”

“You’re right,” Eva sighed softly. “Can you try to convince them, at least?”

“I don’t think I’ll hold much sway, considering I’m biased,” Raphael said with a smirk. “But I’ll try. Focus on the werewolves—they’re more stubborn than us.”

When Raphael left the Institute, Hodge pointed out both groups are equally stubborn when it comes to working together.

“When push comes to shove, they’ll work together,” Hodge said in hindsight. “It isn’t the first time dangerous circumstances have brought the Shadow World together.”

Eva nodded. “Let’s just hope the Clave budges too—we’re _all_ stubborn.”

Hodge watched her as she pulled out her phone and began texting Ragnor, asking him if he’d be willing to open a Portal to Idris. She left out details on purpose; she’s certain he’ll have a fit if she mentions New York’s Downworld was going through the Portal.

When Eva sent the message, she told Hodge about the truth behind the creation of the Nephilim: how Raziel disobeyed God’s order to never intervene in mankind’s affairs and helped Jonathan Shadowhunter and his companions. Raziel would’ve been the Tenth Prince of Hell had God not forgiven him. Jonathan Shadowhunter’s bravery and good heart gave God a sliver of hope for humankind again. 

“I’m starting to believe not all the stories are true,” Hodge said playfully as they walked out of the Institute. He returned to a healthy weight quickly, as all Shadowhunters naturally do, and the grey in his hair was already bleeding through the black dye. It was strange seeing him armed to the teeth with his chakrams, daggers, a seraph blade and two steles, and even stranger to see him armed and in his sharp tweed suit. Eva couldn’t help but wonder how he’d look in full battle gear. 

“Let’s take a taxi to Chinatown,” Eva said. “Hopefully we can get through to the werewolves.”

As Hodge flagged down a vacant taxi, Eva’s phone began to buzz in her pocket. She was a bit surprised when she read the caller ID and answered, “Hey, Ragnor. I know it’s sudden—”

“I can’t.” He cut her off, but was not mean-spirited. He seemed out of breath, like he’d been running uphill. “I understand what’s going on; Magnus told me. But I can’t.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” he said. “Tell Raphael I’ll be fine.”

“What—”

“Just tell him I’m fine.”

The line cut off. Eva tried calling him again, but the call immediately went to voicemail. Pushing that odd encounter aside, she pushed her phone into her pocket and jogged towards the taxi Hodge had flagged.

* * *

When Eva and Hodge arrived at the Jade Wolf in Chinatown, they were greeted by Maia Roberts, Luke Garroway’s second in the pack. 

“Luke got in touch,” she said with a broad grin. “He wants us to save your butts in Idris.”

“And we wholeheartedly appreciate it,” Eva laughed. “How many werewolves have you gathered so far?”

“He told us to contact anyone in the area—we already sent out messages—and Luke’s getting in touch with the werewolves in Brocelind Forest and around Idris.”

“Good. Any idea how you’re going to get to Idris?” 

“None whatsoever,” Maia admitted meekly. “Luke told us Clary used some Shadowhunter rune to transport them to Idris. He told me they landed in a lake.”

“There’s no such thing as a Portal rune,” Hodge pointed out. 

“Not in the Gray Book,” Eva said. The image of the rune flashed behind her eyes again and made her shiver. “But it exists. I think I might be able to replicate it.”

Maia and Hodge eyed her incredulously. Eva pulled her stele out of her belt and twirled it a few times between her fingers as she closed her eyes. Realizing she’s never been to Brocelind Forest, she reached out with her free hand.

“Hodge, give me your hand,” she said. He took it without question as she added, “Picture Brocelind Forest in your head as vividly as possible.”

It was easy to use their joined hands as a link into his mind. She saw Hodge’s memories of Brocelind Forest, saw him gathering ingredients and fresh herbs for his tisanes and cooking. Using that vision, she pressed her stele against an empty wall in the Jade Wolf’s main office and carved the same rune Clary had used in the Institute.

With a flourish here and a flourish there, a doorway yawned open. A cool breeze swept through them, bringing in the smell of forest soil and fresh leaves. Just beyond was a clearing in Brocelind Forest, big enough to house the pack and then some.

“Well, that solves most of our problems,” Maia said jokingly before turning to hurry down the hallway. “Time to head out, everyone!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	34. Ithuriel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Charming, isn’t it?” Raphael smirked coldly. “As the vampires say, we’re stuck between a stake and an open window.”

Eva should’ve learned the Portal rune sooner. They began Portaling everywhere in New York, visiting every Downworld hideout they could think of to let them know of Valentine’s plans. Word travels fast in the Downworld and everyone had already heard Luke Garroway and Raphael Santiago were gathering their numbers to head over to Idris. The warlocks of New York had gotten their information from Catarina, and Tessa had retreated to the Spiral Labyrinth to let others know. Eva managed to get in contact with a Seelie Knight that Isabelle once dated, but he was quick to shut her down, saying the Seelie Queen wanted nothing to do with Valentine’s war. Hodge insisted there was no use trying to bargain with the faeries.

“Well, how’s it going?” Eva asked as she walked into the main ballroom of the Dumort. It was already nightfall and the dim electric lights of the ballroom were flickering against the gilded entrances. “Any luck?”

“You coming into the Dumort  _ como Juan por su casa _ isn’t helping the situation,” Raphael grumbled with his hands in his pockets. “My vampires don’t want to be involved.”

“Why?”

“Why do you think?” He looked especially peeved. “They want the Daylighter.”

“Oh if they knew!” Hodge sang sarcastically. It earned him a scornful look from Raphael.

“Quiet, Starkweather—you’re not in shark-free waters yourself.” His dark brown eyes shifted to meet Eva’s; they melted at the sight of her, as they always did. “ _ Lo siento, mi vida _ , but I’ve done my part. I told them Simon is in Alicante and they’ve agreed to wait in Brocelind Forest for the Clave’s answer, but that’s their bargaining chip.”

“I’m assuming it’s what every vampire clan wants, then?”

“Nightshade’s already over there with the Los Angeles Clan and others are following. If I were Simon, I’d go with our clan—it’s better to choose  _ el diablo que conoces. _ ”

“If he chooses to join your clan then all the other clans will be outraged,” Hodge pointed out. “I’ve read enough of Night Children politics to know it’s either all or nothing.”

Eva immediately understood, and she dreaded the answer. “If he joins you, the others will revolt against you, but if you kill him, then no one can have him and all the clans can work together.”

“Charming, isn’t it?” Raphael smirked coldly. “As the vampires say, we’re stuck between a stake and an open window.”

“There has to be a way you all can help and not have to kill Simon.”

“I’ll figure something out,” Hodge said. “You focus on finding Ithuriel; we need to be ready for when Valentine decides to attack the city.”

“I keep calling Ragnor but he doesn’t answer,” Raphael said. “We need him to open the—”

“He told me to tell you he’s fine—I don’t know what he meant by that but that’s what he told me,” Eva said before pulling out her stele. “Besides, we don’t need a warlock to open a Portal.”

* * *

Eva Portaled the New York vampire clan into Brocelind Forest. There were other vampire clans already there and Raphael left her side to speak to the leaders. Being the odd ones out, Eva and Hodge stood by the outskirts of the forest. The moonlight was providing them with just enough visibility to see each other’s outlines.

“Are you nervous?” he asked. He was carving runes on her arms: agility, balance, luck, stamina, soundless. “Do you want me to go with you?”

“You should stay here with Rapha,” she said. “He’s really stressed, and you calm him down.”

“By being his punching bag,” he chuckled. He finished a swiftness rune on her upper arm before placing the stele on his belt. “I’ll try to brainstorm some alternatives for Simon, but I don’t want to get your hopes up.”

“There has to be some historical precedent,” she said, checking to make sure all her gear was in place. “Some trickery that can be done to get him out of this pickle.”

“I’ll ask the fey,” he joked. 

After a quick farewell, Eva disappeared into the darkness of the countryside. She used her witchlight to guide her steps, the various sight runes on her skin allowing her to scan the distance for the countryside manor she looked for. On her way, she came across Alicante’s City of Bones. Eva had seen it enough in pictures: it looked like a miniature village of white marble houses, storing the remains of fallen Shadowhunters lucky enough to die on their land. 

Eva wanted to keep moving forward, but she couldn’t help but venture inside for one quick peek. She scanned the names on the gravestones, some well-known names of powerful Shadowhunter families and other names of equally brave Shadowhunters. Eventually, she found the names she was looking for.

MARIGOLD STARKWEATHER, B. BRANDYBUCK

JAMES JOHANN STARKWEATHER

It was eerie to see her alias on a gravestone. A child born and registered, but had never truly existed. Eva sighed softly as she ran her fingertips over her mother’s name, feeling the intricate carving of each letter. The woman she never met and will never meet—the woman that suffered so much and still had enough compassion in her to sacrifice herself for her husband and child. 

“ _ Ave Atque Vale _ , Marigold Starkweather,” Eva whispered, drawing her hand back from the gravestone. 

The Wayland Manor wasn’t too far from the graveyard. There was a strong glamour on the house, urging her to move away from it. The rune against glamour was burning on her skin the closer she got—Hodge was clever to carve it on her. He knew Valentine wouldn’t leave a manor housing an angel unwarded.

When she entered the manor, she held her witchlight in one hand and clutched her seraph blade in the other. Plumes of dust floated in the columns of moonlight beaming through the windows, spinning rapidly whenever Eva walked too close. Despite her light footsteps, dust always seemed to burst from the carpets and the wooden floors always creaked. It was freezing; Eva could see her breath everytime she exhaled. 

Suddenly, the corridor began to tremble. The dust spun in fervor, the knickknacks and chandeliers rattled. A powerful gust of wind swept through the corridor, blowing the scent of old furniture and dust into Eva’s face. She grimaced and covered her nose and mouth with the crook of her arm.

As quickly as the miniature earthquake came, it was gone, and the stillness of the manor returned. Just as she lowered her arm, familiar voices cut through the unnerving silence.

“Clary? Are you all right?”

“Fine. Aside from the fact Amatis will probably kill me when we get back.”

Eva’s stomach dropped at the unmistakable sound of Jace and Clary’s voice. What the hell were they doing here? She went into a sprint in their direction. “Jace! Clary! It’s Eva!”

The thundering sound of footsteps erupted and soon, they met in an expansive hall of mirrors. Eva and Jace immediately embraced one another, happy to see each other after what occurred in the Institute’s courtyard in New York City.

“Is Izzy okay?”

“She’s fine; your fire message helped, especially the part about not telling me about Clary,” Jace smirked, nodding towards the redhead standing next to him. “Now she’s keeping herself busy with feeding Simon in the Gard.”

“Simon got arrested?”

“The Inquisitor’s interrogating him, trying to get him to say we’re all in collusion with Valentine,” Clary chimed in. “He thinks that by starving him, he’ll get Simon to talk.”

“It’s just one bad Inquisitor after another,” Jace mused. “How’d you get here?”

“I Portaled using a special rune Clary taught me,” Eva smiled and Clary returned the grin. “I’m assuming that’s how you two managed to get here, but why are you two here?”

“Looking for the Book of the White,” Jace said. “Our mother hid it here in the library inside another book called  _ Simple Recipes for Housewives _ .”

Eva let out a laugh. “I thought Ragnor had it.”

Jace and Clary eyed each other sadly before Clary spoke, “Ragnor’s dead. I went to his house with Sebastian Verlac and Magnus was there. He said Ragnor was killed by something demonic.”

Eva frowned, remembering Ragnor’s ragged voice when he spoke to her on the phone, insisting she tell Raphael that he was fine. Did he know he was going to die?

Eva shook the feeling away as Jace asked, “Why are you here? Don’t tell me you’re related to the Waylands in one way or another?”

“Ithuriel is here, in the cellar,” she said. The color seemed to drain from Jace and Clary’s faces. “I named my seraph blade Raziel again, and he told me where to look.”

“There’s no cellar here,” Jace shook his head.

They walked through the dark manor, Eva quickly telling them she’d Portaled Maia and the New York werewolf pack to Idris under Luke’s orders while he was gathering nearby packs to help against Valentine’s forces. When Jace asked about Raphael and the vampires, Eva rolled her eyes in exasperation.

“The price for their help is Simon,” Eva said, purposefully leaving out the only foreseeable solution to gain the help of the Night Children: killing the Daylighter. “Hodge is with Rapha and the New York clan; they’re trying to broker a better deal.”

When they entered the library, they looked through the many books lining the shelves. It didn’t take long to find the one book that stood out against the many texts of dead languages and Nephilim history.

“Greek,” Jace said, looking over the open Book of the White in Clary’s hands. “Of the ancient variety.”

“Can you read it?”

“Not easily,” he surprisingly admitted. He looked up at Eva. “How’s your Greek, Eva?”

His voice was a distant murmur. Eva’s ears were suddenly buzzing with the sound of angelic whispers, of music you’d likely hear in a church or a religious ceremony. There was a deep voice woven into the harmonic sounds, a voice that made her heart beat faster. 

_ My child. I am here. _

“Eva?” Clary’s voice cut through her reverie. Eva realized, with a start, that her skin was covered in a thin veil of cold sweat. Her hands were trembling, making the witchlight’s beams waver all over the room. An unknown force seemed to draw her to one of the many shelves in the room, drawing her to one specific line of books, dusty with years of unuse. With her arm, she swept the books off the shelf, making them tumble to the floor and dust explode from their bindings. 

The sound of machinery began whirring to life, a series of clicks and high-pitched grinding. The wall in front of them groaned open, a roughly hacked doorway with a descending staircase appeared before them. 

“There’s your cellar, Jace,” Clary said.

* * *

The cellar was dark, illuminated by Jace and Eva’s witchlights. Bones crunched beneath their boots—some animal bones, some not. The far corners of the room sprang into focus when their witchlights flared up. Three rooms were empty, but the fourth was covered by a cloth. A silhouette was behind the sheer cloth, a humped shape that moved sluggishly. Eva’s ears rang again with a whisper.

_ I’m here. _

Eva rushed forward, Jace and Clary at her heels. Finally close enough, she grabbed the cloth and tore it aside. Their witchlights shone upon the shape of a man wrapped in dirty and torn rags, crouched on the floor on his knees. Manacles were clamped over his wrists and ankles, the pale skin raw and red. The chains were driven into the stone floor lined with glowing pentagrams and runes. His face was a mask of horror, his body frail and thin, pallid skin lined with scars alternating between cuts and burns. Hollow black sockets where his eyes should’ve been—what should’ve been blazing sockets of gold and heavenly fire. His feathered wings unfurled from behind him, unfolding like crescent moons against the light. Despite the dirtiness of his body and rags, the wings looked unscathed and pure.

Eva felt her stomach turning. The angel sitting before her, chained to the floor like an animal and scarred with years of endless torture, was her father. The chains clanked with his weak movements, his lips parting as if wanting to speak, but no words came forth. Eva could only look into the dark tunnels of where his eyes were scooped out. His long, golden hair lay shaggily over his forehead and sunken cheekbones. 

_ My child. My beautiful child. _ His voice was weak even in her head.  _ It is shameful you must see me this way.  _

“There must be something—” Jace’s voice broke, “something we can do.”

The angel opened his mouth again, and this time, a sound erupted from him. A single singing note of piercing golden music. It grew higher and higher, a sound enthralled with pain and joy.

All their minds connected as one. A flood of images flashed before their eyes like a movie, spliced to show key scenes and information. They saw Valentine and Jocelyn, young and in love. They saw Valentine summoning Lilith and receiving a goblet of pure black ichor and the Lady of Edom instructing him that the child born with her blood will have his humanity burned out of him. More images of Valentine torturing Ithuriel for information on the Mortal Instruments, scarring him and exsanguinating him of his pure golden blood. 

They returned into their own bodies, back into the dark and damp room. Ithuriel folded his wings tightly, his mouth now closed tightly as he waited for them to regain their senses. 

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Jace whispered. “How can I have demon _ and  _ angel blood in me?”

Eva knew why. As she looked into her father’s hollow sockets, she finally connected the dots of the final mystery. Jace had to be Stephen Herondale’s son, not Valentine’s. He was the baby boy Hodge cut out of Celine. She didn’t know where the other boy was; perhaps he did die in that fire and Valentine kept Jace as his surrogate son instead. Perhaps the demon blood in the other child proved too much and killed him. 

Eva jumped when Clary appeared at her side and knelt before the various runes and pentagrams surrounding Ithuriel. With Jace’s stele in hand, she carved new runes of release and openness rather than binding and imprisonment. Eva looked down at Clary and the girl smiled, patting her arm before approaching Jace.

“Let’s give her a minute, Jace,” she said and led Jace up the dark stairs and out of the cellar. 

With tears in her eyes, Eva knelt before Ithuriel and reached out. Hesitantly, the angel raised his hand and took it. Eva winced; his skin was a block of ice. 

_ My child, _ Ithuriel’s voice echoed in her head.  _ My beautiful Evangeline. _

_ I’m sorry you’ve had to suffer so much _ . Eva’s tears rolled down her cheeks.  _ I’m so sorry this all happened. _

_ It cannot be helped, and it is in no way your fault, or your mother’s, _ Ithuriel said, squeezing her hand.  _ You were innocents dragged into the malice of one man. _

_ I spoke to Raziel. He told me where to find you. He told me you could help me stop Valentine from destroying the Downworlders and the Nephilim. _

_ You are not of Heaven and you are not of Earth _ , he said, repeating Raziel’s words.  _ We as His messengers, guardians of His creations, and soldiers against evil must follow His commands, but you, my child, can choose your own path. You can awaken Heaven’s blood in you and become what was once His plan. _

_ What Jesus was meant to do: bridge the gap between Heaven and mankind. _

_ Jesus died a mortal death, but as a child of Gabriel, he was given a place in Heaven _ , Ithuriel explained.  _ Mary of Nazareth, as she who produced a child of Heaven, was also given a place in Heaven. _

Eva’s jaw dropped as Ithuriel continued,  _ If you were to die a mortal death, you too shall have a place in Heaven. As your mother, Marigold was given a place in Heaven, as well as for her sacrifice. _

A sob left Eva with little restraint. Her hands were trembling; if it wasn’t for Ithuriel holding her, she would’ve doubled over. Even in her mind, her voice was wavering,  _ She’s alive? _

_ Her spirit lives on. _

It was odd to cry for a woman she never knew. To think that Eva could one day meet her and speak to her, even if it was only her spirit. It was heart-wrenching to think of how Hodge would feel. 

_ Jesus never had the chance to rise to the height of Heaven,  _ Ithuriel continued. Eva lifted her head, his beautiful and scarred face blurred with her tears.  _ He died a mortal death before he could Ascend and fulfill his duty as he was meant to.  _

Eva’s breath hitched in her throat as Ithuriel made images appear before her eyes. Flashes of heavenly fire, of runes she’s never seen in her life, of gleaming weapons and armor. An image of a beautiful angel with fierce golden eyes and unruly hair like her own, feathered wings that spread out beyond the boundaries of her vision.

Clary had seen her in this form. Her sketch was a perfect rendition.

_ I used what little energy I had to make your paths cross, _ Ithuriel explained.  _ You and Clarissa and Jonathan. It was I who gave Jonathan the strength to continue life under Valentine’s care, it was I who influenced your Inquisitor’s decision to place Hodge Starkweather and the Lightwood family in New York City, and it was I who guided Clarissa to you.  _

_ You are all my children. You all carry my blood. _ Ithuriel cupped her hands in his. They were so large and yet so frail. She could see the fading scars of runes on his pale skin.  _ But you are part of me; a part of Heaven. You were not created by the union of love, but you are loved. You, as well as Clarissa and Jonathan, are destined for greatness. Your paths have always been intertwined; they will part ways eventually, but will always be intertwined. _

Eva blinked her tears away and squared her jaw.  _ Tell me what I have to do. _

* * *

“Maybe it’s happened before,” Clary suggested. “I’m sure there’s someone out there with both angel and demon blood.”

“Tessa said her mother was a Shadowhunter and her father was a Eidolon demon,” Jace said. “Perhaps that’s what happened to me.”

“We would have to ask her—” Clary was cut off when the floor beneath her began to tremble. She met Jace’s eyes, wide and just as confused as her own. The manor began to groan, wood began to splinter, shelves began to topple over and glass began to shatter. Jace whirled around and dashed for the cellar staircase, but it collapsed before he could get within arm’s length of it.

“Eva!” Jace cried out. He was clawing at the rubble blocking the cellar entrance. Dust and debris was spraying all over him and Clary. The twinkle of glass exploded all around them like misty rain. He was crying out her name, but the massive groan of the manor drowned him out.

“We have to go, Jace!” Clary shouted as she tugged at his arm. 

“I’m not leaving her! Not again!” Jace still remembered the day he left her behind at the Dumort. He assumed correctly that she’d be fine, that she could handle herself. But when Raphael barged into the Institute and knocked him in his face and set him straight, the vamp had a point. She was his sister and he was not about to make the same mistake again.

“The cellar’s gone!” Clary cried out, choking on the dust around her. “We need to leave!”

Letting out a howling cry, Jace whipped around, gathered Clary up in his arms, and dashed for a broken window. He jumped out of it clumsily; he landed as cleanly as he could but the momentum had them tumbling down the depression between the two hills adjacent to the manor. He shielded her with his body out of pure instinct.

It was raining debris and dust and broken glass. The house gave one final roar before finally collapsing entirely. Birds began cawing and circling the air above, startled by the sudden disturbance. 

“Ithuriel was attached to the manor,” Jace said through ragged gasps. “If the angel dies, the manor collapses.”

“But angels can’t die,” Clary said. She was mortified to see Jace’s golden eyes swell with tears. “Angels can’t die, Jace.”

“That one did.” His voice wavered. “And so did Eva.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	35. Angel Sighting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crowd watched as he held up his hand. It almost looked like some sort of Renaissance painting; a mortal man attempting to reach into Heaven.

The long walk back to Alicante was deathly silent. Clary focused on watching the dirt path ahead of her, careful not to trip over a rock in the pitch-black darkness. Jace walked alongside her, sometimes hurrying his pace when his mind would wander too far. His witchlight provided much needed illumination, but it only brightened a few feet in front of them.

Clary didn’t dare say anything. She knew Jace was fuming. Perhaps blaming himself as he always did. Perhaps he was mourning her death, but Clary doubted it. He’d stood before the rubble of the Wayland Manor, staring at it for a few long minutes before simply turning around and telling her they needed to get back to Alicante. 

No Shadowhunter farewell from Catullus’ poem. He simply went mute. Clary figured he wasn’t accepting her death. Or maybe he didn’t deem himself worthy to say those farewell words to her. 

“It wasn’t your fault, Jace.” Clary had said to him in the darkness, but he didn’t reply. He didn’t even grunt a response. Clary pressed her lips together and didn’t say anything else.

When they finally climbed over the hill overlooking Alicante, they watched in horror as the city burned. Fires were blazing, the glass towers’ light was dull, the North Gate was thrown open, the smell of pungent smoke and rotting garbage, the distant sounds of screaming. From the adjacent field, they saw packs of werewolves sprinting into the city, howling to announce their arrival to help them. Eva had mentioned Luke’s distress call to any werewolf pack who would listen. She also mentioned the vampires were being stubborn, which explained why there were no Night Children running into the city to help. 

When they ran through the North Gate, Jace handed her a seraph blade. He was reluctant to give her a weapon since she had no training, but even he had to admit there was no choice. Especially with dozens of slimy and ferocious demons stomping through Alicante’s cobblestone streets, killing innocent children and elderly and having no remorse for the brave Shadowhunters fighting to eradicate them. 

On their way to the Hall of Accords, they ran into Maia. The werewolf girl told them Eva sent the entire pack through a Portal she created with a rune Clary gave her. Jace and Clary tried not to seem entirely distraught at the mention of Eva. Clary thought of how they’d break the news to Isabelle and to Alec. How they’d tell Hodge and Raphael. 

Her adrenaline was a great help in getting those thoughts out of her head quickly. 

They continued their run for the Accords Hall. Maia mentioned the Lightwoods were probably there since they were leading everyone into the building. Jace agreed; the building was entirely warded and likely the safest place in Alicante right now. 

When they finally arrived, Clary was amazed by the silence. She was used to seeing depictions of mundane disasters: everyone screaming and crying and hysterical. Shadowhunters in a disaster were deathly calm, some staring into nothing while others sat around with their heads in their hands. Children weren’t crying; they were huddled close to their families and silent. 

Maia left their side to approach members of her pack just as Alec pushed his way through the crowd towards them. He grabbed Jace by the collar and scolded him.

“What _happened_ to you?”

“What happened to _me_?”

Alec throttled him in annoyance. “You said you were going for a _walk_! What kind of walk takes six hours?”

“A long one?”

Alec muttered something about killing Jace before letting him go. He explained Isabelle and Max were at the Penhallow’s with Sebastian and Robert and Maryse were on their way to get them. The mention of Isabelle made lightning bolts shoot through Clary. Jace went rigid as well, something Alec noticed.

“What’s wrong?”

“How long ago did you see Isabelle?” Jace asked. 

“About two hours ago. Why?”

Clary watched as Jace took hold of Alec’s collar. Not with hostility, but probably as a way to keep himself upright. “She didn’t say anything?”

Alec’s deep blue eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”

Jace clenched his jaw. “Eva’s dead.”

Clary swore Alec’s skin went deathly pale. With one long blink, Alec choked out, “That’s not possible—Izzy would’ve felt something. How do you even know that? How—”

“It’s a long story, but she’s...” Jace couldn’t bring himself to say it again. “It’s my fault, Alec. It’s mine—”

Clary didn’t hear anything else. Her ears were suddenly filled with the high-pitched sound of angelic choirs. The same sound she’d heard when Ithuriel showed them images of the past.

The same rune as before flashed behind her eyes like a blinking neon sign. She still couldn’t figure out what it meant. Along with the angelic music, she heard a voice. A familiar voice.

_Don’t forget that rune, Clary._

Clary snapped out of her reverie when she heard shouting slice through the silence of the Accords Hall. Alec and Jace abruptly stopped their conversation and turned to the double doors of the Hall. A male Shadowhunter covered in black ichor was standing there, screaming frantically into the Hall.

“Look outside! Look!”

Something pulled Clary to move her feet and rush outside. She faintly heard Alec shouting after them—after her and Jace. Did Jace feel the same pull?

They stepped outside onto the marble stairs of the Accords Hall and looked into the night sky, glowing with the blood red light of fire. One by one, more Shadowhunters poured out of the double doors—a chorus of gasps before a crashing tidal wave of disbelieving shouts.

Hovering in the sky was a fluorescent figure of pure golden light, a beacon in the darkness. The figure was easy to pinpoint and even easier to distinguish, despite the distance. Golden armor, knee-high boots, an enormous spear with a sharp blade at its end, and glorious white feathered wings that beat against the air every so often. With every flourish of wings came a twirl of the spear and from the bladed end erupted a beam of golden light. When it touched the ground, it was nothing more than light, but the demons sizzled and evaporated. 

Clary recognized the figure. After all, she’d seen it before. She saw it in her dreams and put it to paper. Ithuriel was showing her a vision of what could be, and now was.

“That’s Eva,” Clary said. She was tugging on Jace’s sleeve. He didn’t look down at her; he was panting from the sheer adrenaline in his system. Alec was the one who answered for him.

“It can’t be.” Alec sounded like he didn’t believe his words. “That _can’t_ be.”

The angel hovering in the skies kept pointing that spear and shooting golden light, evaporating the demons that were now running for their lives, trying to hide in the columns of darkness the buildings provided. It was no use. The light always found them.

The Shadowhunters around them were murmuring while some were sobbing. Some just stared incredulously with their mouths hanging open while others prayed. Some were pushing at the crowd, trying to get a better view. The murmuring erupted into frantic voices as they watched the golden angel spearing light into the city.

Movement pulled Clary’s eyes from the skies to the courtyard of Angel Square. Shadowhunters and werewolves alike were approaching the stairs, dragging their tired and wounded bodies towards the safety of the Accords Hall. Some were helping others, wrapping their arms around each other to haul them up and make it easier on their injuries. 

Among the crowd was Luke, bloodied but alive and squinting because he couldn’t see without his glasses. It was tunnel-vision for Clary—the mere sight of Luke brought her the most comfort she'd felt since she arrived in Alicante. 

Clary bolted down the stairs and hurled herself into his chest. He let out a grunt at the surprise but smiled and pulled her up into his arms like he used to do when she was small. 

“I don’t get a hug?” 

Clary pulled away from Luke to see Simon smiling in that goofy way he always did. At his side was none other than Hodge, his chakrams in his hands. His sharp tweed suit was splattered with blood and soot, the jacket torn around the shoulders and his trousers shredded at the knees. 

Clary barrelled herself into Simon’s chest. “I’m so happy to see all of you!”

“Hodge here broke me out of the Gard,” Simon said. “They were going to leave me there to burn alive—or dead, I should say.”

“I know my way around the Gard,” Hodge joked lightly, but his voice sounded distant. He turned his head to look up at the angel in the sky. His eyes shone with recognition and pride, but he didn’t say a word. He probably figured no one would believe him.

The Shadowhunters and werewolves were all staring at the angel in the sky, gasping when it twirled the spear, flapped those glorious wings and banked towards one of the nearby demon towers. The golden figure disappeared behind the tower momentarily and when it emerged again, the tower began glowing as bright as a halo. One by one, the demon towers lining the city began bursting with light until each and every one of them was lit and strong with their magical warding power. 

The crowd in Angel Square began to shout hysterically as the angel hovered over the courtyard; they were pointing fingers as if an alien aircraft was descending upon them. The lower the angel hovered, the more it looked like Eva. Her unruly curls, her smooth dark skin, her eyes—full of fiery golden fire with no whites or pupils. What was exposed of her skin was lined with silvery rivers of glimmering runes and in her hand was a golden spear taller than her. Her wingspan was enormous, the feathers pure white and rustling as she descended onto the cobblestone. 

No one approached the angel. No one but Hodge. 

The crowd watched as he held up his hand. It almost looked like some sort of Renaissance painting; a mortal man attempting to reach into Heaven.

The angel reached out with her free hand and the moment they touched, her glow began to extinguish bit by bit. Her wings began to recede into her small back until they were gone. The spear dissolved into the air. Her golden armor and sturdy leather boots began to turn into black Shadowhunter gear. Her eyes flooded with white and what remained of the bright gold were her irises. 

When her feet touched the cobblestone, she doubled over. Hodge caught her before her knees hit the ground. She was trembling when he hauled her into his arms like a princess and turned to the bug-eyed, slack-jawed crowd. 

The silence was eerie. The crowd parted for Hodge as he carried Eva into the Accords Hall.

* * *

Eva was unconscious when Hodge laid her down on the floor of the Accords Hall. He’d taken off his jacket and folded it neatly under Eva’s head. He was rolling up his shirtsleeves as Alec, Jace, Clary, and Simon approached. Luke lingered not too far with some members of his pack. The Shadowhunters were murmuring among themselves, too afraid to come closer but hovered close enough to get a good view.

“I thought she was dead,” Jace said. The relief in his voice was heartwarming. “Ithuriel was in the cellar at the Wayland Manor and the manor collapsed with Eva in it.”

“I had no idea about...any of this,” Hodge said. His hand was on her forehead checking for fever. “I saw Alicante burning from Brocelind Forest and the demon towers weren’t glowing. Raphael told me to stay, but I didn’t listen. When I got into the city and saw the demons, I knew Valentine was behind it. I went straight for the Gard because I knew Simon was there and I know the Inquisitor well enough to know he wouldn’t evacuate the prisoner. I know they wouldn’t have with me.”

“You can imagine my surprise when Raphael projected into my cell to sass me about letting my secret out,” Simon sighed in exasperation. “Vampire Law this, alliances that, calling me a _pinche payaso_ and every other Mexican insult under the sun—and then a fire starts a few hours later and then Hodge shows up to break me out.” 

“He was in the cell next to my old one,” Hodge said. “When I broke Simon out, I saw Luke a few blocks from the Gard and he told me they were evacuating everyone to the Accords Hall. On the way here, I saw her.” Hodge shook his head in disbelief. “I knew it was Eva the moment I saw her.”

“We left her down in the cellar talking to Ithuriel,” Clary explained. “And then the house collapsed. We couldn’t get her out in time—we thought she was dead.”

“Only the Angel knows what happened with Ithuriel,” Jace said thoughtfully before turning to Clary. “How’d you know it was Eva?”

“I saw her in a dream once and she looked exactly like she did just now,” Clary said, blushing a bit. “Without the spear, though. But the wings and the eyes and the halo...all that.”

“Heads up,” Alec suddenly said. Their little group perked their heads up to see both the Consul and the Inquisitor coming straight for them. “They don’t look too happy.”

Hodge was quick to stand and put himself before Eva’s unconscious body. Alec and Jace did the same. The Consul looked furious but the Inquisitor looked like he was about to burst with hot air.

“Lucian Graymark! What is the meaning of this!” the Inquisitor shouted. “This—this _invasion_ of lycanthropes! Wolves running through our city like a rampant dog pound!”

“The vampires are standing by,” Simon chimed in. “Just so you know.”

The Inquisitor paid Simon no mind. His attention now shifted from Luke to Hodge. His fat cheeks were flushed deep red. “ _You!_ You traitor! You have some gall breaking out of our prison and coming here acting like a savior!”

“I warned you!” Hodge cried out. “I warned both of you! And now look! Look how many lives have been lost because you let your titles get to your head!”

“I am the Inquisitor!” Aldertree shouted. His voice was so high-pitched, it echoed like broken glass throughout the hall. “You will show me respect, traitor!”

“Aldertree,” the Consul said softly with a heavy hand on the Inquisitor’s shoulder. The small man was panting from his exertion, but ultimately calmed down. The Consul’s eyes darted straight for Eva. “Is what everyone saying true?”

“It’s a very arduous story—one I don’t think is appropriate to tell at this moment,” Hodge said, eyes shifting between them and the onlooking Shadowhunters. “We’ve lost many brothers and sisters today, and many are injured and need medical attention. Focus on what needs to be done.”

“There was an angel in the skies of Alicante and demons and Downworlders in this city!” the Inquisitor flared up again. “We demand an explanation!”

“You will not get one from me,” Hodge said. Jace and Alec tensed at hearing that tone. It was the tone Hodge used when he was furious—but the dangerous kind where he was calm too. “Not until Eva is awake.”

The Consul, the more level-headed one of the two, led Aldertree away while gesturing at Luke to follow him for a conversation. Clary had disappeared from their side during that confrontation, only for Jace to see her speaking to Magnus. In the warlock’s hands, he noticed, was the Book of the White. Before Jace could walk in their direction, a figure stepped in his way. A figure he nearly hissed at seeing. 

“Is it true?” Sebastian Verlac asked, leaning over Jace’s broad shoulder as he tried to get a better look at Eva’s unconscious body. Jace couldn’t resist shoving him back. Alec scolded him for it, but Jace ignored him. Sebastian looked only a little peeved as he straightened his jacket. The infuriating boy raised a dark eyebrow. “Well?”

“Oh, you don’t know?” Jace seethed. “You always seem to know everything.”

“I don’t know everything,” he insisted. “Who is she?”

“Eva; she’s our sister,” Alec said, trying to ease the situation. “She’s Isabelle’s _parabatai_.”

“Oh, I heard Isabelle mention her,” Sebastian nodded slowly. He couldn’t keep his eyes off Eva. “Has she always been an angel?”

“Your pick-up lines are terrible,” Jace spat. “Besides, she’s already dating someone—someone you really don’t want to mess with.”

The joke went over Sebastian’s head. Jace expected some other stupid question, but the boy simply grinned. A grin that was oddly in sync with the sudden uproar of screams and sobs. When Jace turned his head, he saw Robert and Maryse Lightwood enter the Accords Hall. Isabelle was at their side, her normally neat dark hair a mess on her head and her makeup streaking her cheeks with tears. 

In Robert’s arms was a limp, scrawny body. It was Max. 

Alec unknowingly pushed Jace as he hurried towards his grieving family. The shove was enough to snap Jace out of his thoughts and realize Sebastian had disappeared into the crowd of Shadowhunters now parting the way for the Lightwoods. 

When Alec finally reached them, he embraced his mother and then embraced his sister. Isabelle looked over Alec’s shoulder towards Jace before her eyes trailed behind him.

Her eyes widened frantically and she pushed Alec aside. Her mouth was hanging open, seemingly frozen in a hysterical scream as she sprinted past Jace and towards Eva’s form on the floor. Isabelle was quick, but Hodge was quicker. 

“She’s fine!” he urged the moment Isabelle landed on her knees at her _parabatai’s_ side. His words seemed to reach her, but she still threw herself over Eva’s body and sobbed hysterically over her chest. 

She lost her brother and the one person she needed the most for comfort was halfway across the world—or so she thought. Now that person was miraculously here and, to Izzy’s horror, looked nearly dead. She couldn’t take it. She clutched Eva’s gear jacket in her hands and sobbed, hoping the proximity would make her feel that soothing _parabatai_ magic and give Eva the strength to open her eyes. 

Her grief was too much. Izzy felt absolutely nothing, and Eva remained asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	36. No Ifs, Ands, or Buts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brother Zachariah was right; Valentine would unravel the entire conspiracy if he so much as caught a glance of her.

Eva’s entire body ached. She couldn’t help the hiss that escaped her throat as she stretched her sore muscles underneath the warm blanket. A hand on her shoulder urged her eyes to flutter open and see none other than Hodge at her side. He was wearing a clean tweed suit and looked as worried as he always did when she was in any kind of pain. 

“Let me help.” Hodge pulled her into a seated position against the headboard and fluffed the pillows behind her back. As another pained wince left her lips, Hodge had a mug of steaming tisane in front of her. She took it with shaky hands.

Eva knew she was in the Starkweather house in Alicante. She didn’t go past the sitting room and the kitchen the last time she was here, but she could feel the energy in the room. She could feel the reminiscent air around Hodge as he sat there at the edge of her bed in a wooden chair. She could feel the memories of distant Starkweather relatives when they used to live here and raise their children here.

“Your father was born in this room,” Eva said. Her ears rang with the shrieking cries of a newborn and the breathless laugh of an exhausted mother. “In 1917 during the signing of the Fourth Accords.” 

Hodge’s eyes widened at the information. Hodge mentioned his parents once to her, but never went into detail. Eva almost thought he didn’t know that fact himself, but he let out a soft chuckle. “I did tell you my parents were old.”

Eva sipped the tisane, letting the silence fall on them like a quilt. She knew he didn’t know what to say or what question to ask first or how he should ask. 

“I spoke to Ithuriel and he told me I had the choice to awaken the blood of Heaven in me,” Eva said, choosing to make it easier on him. Their eyes met, and Hodge’s shone with appreciation. “And I did.”

“You rose to Heaven?”

Eva nodded. “It’s difficult to explain, but I took my vows and...” She ran a hand over her forearm subconsciously. She was wearing one of Izzy’s long sleeve tops and a pair of her pajama shorts. She tried not to let her voice waver at the thought of her. “My blood felt like it was on fire. I can see and hear and feel things that are overwhelming—I can hear your heart beating and I can see into your soul.”

“I hope you see good things in there?”

“You’re terrified of me,” she said with a smile. “You don’t know what you’re looking at.”

“I’m not scared of you.” He looked offended and it made her laugh. She knew he’d get that way. “It’s just too much to process. You had _wings,_ Eva, and you were glowing like a halo. You were flying in the skies of Alicante and killing demons with the swing of a golden spear.”

“It’s Ithuriel’s spear,” Eva said. “He gifted it to me when I took my vows.”

“What kind of vows?”

“ _I shalt honor the realm of His messengers as I shalt honor the realm of His creations. I shalt standeth in the crossroads of both realms, never standing in one over the other. I shalt protecteth and serve His creations as I shalt protecteth and serve alongside His messengers…_ ” Eva trailed off, eyeing her reflection in the tisane. “It’s much longer, but I think you get the point.”

“You’ve become immortal, then?” Hodge was straightforward, and when she nodded, he sighed. “Well, I’m sure Raphael will be happy to hear that.”

She smiled at the thought of him. “Where is he? Does he know?”

“The vampires are aware an angel was sighted in the skies of Alicante, and since he hasn’t projected in front of me, I can only assume he thinks you released Ithuriel. I haven’t told him anything—I figured that’s something you’d want to talk to him about.” Hodge’s tone soured as he said, “Currently, all the Clave wants is to figure out what you are.” 

Eva expected as much. “What have you told them?”

“I said I’d tell them nothing until you were awake, and Aldertree wants to interrogate us but he’s respectfully keeping his distance—”

“Because of Max,” Eva nodded slowly. “I know. I felt him go the moment it happened.”

Hodge let out a shaky breath. He was still unaccepting of Max’s meaningless death. He raised him ever since he was born and was delighted when the youngest Lightwood began showing interest in literature, even if it was picture books. He was always a joy to teach, and Hodge felt like it was yet another knife digging deeper in his looming grief.

“His funeral was this morning,” Hodge said. “I forced Isabelle away from your side so she could attend. I chose to stay; I figured I’d be a spectre at the feast anyway.”

Eva didn’t reply. To the Clave, Hodge was a traitor and the Lightwoods were grieving too much to listen to reason right now. Eva didn’t blame any of them, but she thought the armed Shadowhunters standing outside the Starkweather townhouse were a bit much. She could feel the guards’ exasperation from here—no one really seemed to like Inquisitor Aldertree. 

“Are those guards posted to keep us in, or keep others out?” Eva joked, finishing her tisane and placing it on the nightstand nearby. “They do realize I can transform into an angel and pulverize them, right?”

“You will do no such thing,” Hodge warned her with a smile.

“I should probably get dressed,” Eva began, kicking off the covers and biting back a pained hiss. “We need to talk to the Inquisitor and—”

“You haven’t asked about Isabelle,” Hodge pointed out, arms crossed over his chest. When Eva subconsciously avoided his glance, he added, “That’s unlike you.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Eva pushed herself off the bed, thankfully feeling the effects of the tisane coursing through her body. “I’d rather not think about how she’s feeling right now.”

“You’re not answering me, Evangeline.”

Eva tensed at his use of her full name. “You didn’t ask a question.”

“I don’t have to.”

Her throat clamped and burned with tears as she fought them back. All she had to do was face Hodge and pull down the collar of her shirt. It didn’t take Hodge a second to realize what was going on.

“ _Whither thou goest, I will go._ ” Eva’s voice wavered as tears streamed her face. “But she can’t follow me where I’ve gone.”

Hodge immediately took her in his arms and consoled her as best he could, rubbing her back as it trembled with grief. She hugged his midsection tightly, managing to speak through sniffles, “I had to, Hodge. I had to—”

“It was the sacrifice you had to make, Eva. It’s not your fault.”

“She just lost Max—if I tell her this now, it’ll break her. I know Izzy’s not made of glass, but this is too much for her.”

“She’ll understand,” Hodge said as he wiped her tears with his palms. “Maybe not now, but she will. I promise she will.”

Eva was glad he didn’t question her further. By the time she washed up and changed into light Shadowhunter gear, she’d calmed down. The existence of the Nephilim and Downworlders were at stake, and she was what stood between them and Valentine. She has to stay strong in the same way Isabelle and the Lightwoods have to stay strong in this grieving moment. 

When they walked out of the townhouse, the guards offered to escort them to the Accords Hall where the Inquisitor was. The stroll was quiet, the streets just as quiet and uncharacteristically empty. The demon towers were glowing but no sound came from anywhere in the city. Only the sound of gushing water from the canals filled the deathly silence of mourning and shock.

They crossed Angel Square, and Eva couldn’t help but look up at the marble statue of Raziel overlooking the courtyard. Hodge, trying to distract her, asked jokingly, “Did we get his looks right?”

Eva smiled when she felt the curiosity of the guards pique at his words. She couldn’t help but feel like a unicorn of sorts; like everyone was both amazed and terrified of her. 

“Not at all,” she said. “Raziel would be very offended if he saw it.”

Hodge let out a laugh and touched her hair, attempting to comfort her. She appreciated it. He knew she was dreading what was coming—the Inquisitor’s interrogation, confronting the Shadowhunter population, telling Isabelle that they were no longer parabatai, telling the Lightwoods and Raphael what she’s become. 

It all went down a spiraling drain the moment Hodge and Eva entered the Accords Hall. The Shadowhunters were gathered, all pale with horror and eerily silent. In the center of the Hall was a silhouette apparition of Valentine Morgenstern in a sharp pin-striped suit and tie. The limp body of Inquisitor Aldertree lay at his expensive dress shoes and his hand was covered in fresh blood. 

Valentine turned and locked eyes with them across the Hall, his cold glance bouncing between Eva and Hodge. The more they shifted, the more they widened. Eva could practically see the gears turning in his head, the equations being solved, the puzzle pieces fitting together perfectly. Brother Zachariah was right; Valentine would unravel the entire conspiracy if he so much as caught a glance of her.

Maniacally, Valentine let out a howling laugh. Out of reflex, Hodge held out his arm and pushed Eva behind him. A dumb thing to do, and Eva knew he acknowledged it, but it was instinct. The instinct ingrained into him the moment Hodge carried her in his arms for the first time.

“Hodge Starkweather,” Valentine began, his deep voice drawing out the name in an almost mocking way. “For all these years, you fooled me.”

“I’m glad I impressed you for once,” Hodge spat. He was trembling at the sight of this evil man before him. Valentine was just a projection, but it still invoked terror in Hodge. “You deserve far worse than the Angel’s wrath for what you’ve done.”

“I thought it was rather strange that Isabelle Lightwood’s _parabatai_ was an angel in the skies of Alicante, but now that I’m looking at her, I understand everything.” How he knew all that, Eva didn’t know, but he was oozing with an odd blend of satisfaction and resentment. His eyes met Hodge’s and he pushed the knife into the wound he knew was open. “But she did die, didn’t she? Marigold? She burned alive in that fire.”

Hodge’s head dipped down and his knees nearly buckled.

“You wanted to use me as your personal weapon,” Eva said, stepping out from behind Hodge. “I regret to inform you that I am now a weapon against _you._ ”

“Do you believe they deserve to be protected?” Valentine held out his arms. His left arm was dripping blood and staining the floor. “Do you think the corruption of the Clave deserves protection? Or the filth in the Downworld? Surely the Angels and God showed you what perfection _really_ is.”

“The Angels aren’t perfect—some are now Princes of Hell, after all,” Eva said. “And no being in this realm would ever understand what God is.”

“But _you_ do?” Valentine turned to the Nephilim around him. “You think you’re _better_ than the Nephilim now? Having met God, you think you’re _above_ us?”

It was sick how quickly he grasped at the opportunity to turn the Clave against her. If he couldn’t have her on his side, then he’d manipulate her allies to mistrust her. 

Eva began walking in Valentine’s direction. She kept her head high and her posture confident, even as the suffocating arrogance around him hit her, even as the looming doubt and cynicism floated around the crowd watching them. 

“Raziel is aware of what you’re attempting to do, and he’s not pleased,” Eva warned him as evenly as she could. “You will pay for the harm you’ve caused, and you will lose.”

“I was told you cannot even control your powers,” Valentine taunted. “Perhaps my experiment was a failure.”

A blinding light exploded in the Accords Hall, the startled screams of the crowd bouncing off the arched ceilings and marble walls. When the light receded, it gathered as a steady golden halo around Eva as she floated a good distance above the ground, just enough to look down on Valentine’s already impressive height. She looked as she did when she appeared in Alicante’s skies: golden armor, featureless eyes of pure energy and heavenly fire, and impressive white-feathered tucked into the small of her back. 

_Do not think you are the first to attempt the creation of a bridge between the realms, Valentine Morgenstern,_ Eva said in the Language of Heaven. It resonated in everyone’s minds, but her mouth didn’t move. _But your heinous scheme to do so has earned you the contempt of Heaven. You will find that Heaven does not share your beliefs, nor do they hold you in high regard. You are a blight against this world._

Ever the proud creature, Valentine held his chin high, but he said nothing. His apparition simply disappeared, but the Shadowhunters still didn’t breathe easily. They stood frozen as they stared up at Eva, glowing with the raw power of heavenly fire. Despite their apprehension and Valentine’s baiting, the blood of the Angel within them drew them to her. 

Hodge was at her side suddenly and boldly reached up to take her hand in his. He gently pulled her down, letting her boots touch the ground while her glow diminished and her features returned to normal. She doubled over and winced in pain, but he caught her. 

“We owe everyone explanations,” Eva said. “But I’ll tell you this: the only way to win this war is to fight together. No ifs, ands, or buts.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
